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For generations beyond counting, Highgarden had been considered the heart of chivalry in the Seven Kingdoms. It was a title that those within Highgarden held with pride. Their knights, even their guardsmen, kept themselves cleaned and their armor polished. Their manners were always impeccable. And as the leaders of the heart of chivalry, House Tyrell, the Defenders of the Marches and High Marshals of the Reach, had to be the example that was set to all. The sons were always trained to be knights and hold themselves to the highest levels of honor. While their daughters taught themselves how to be the absolute perfect lady. And ever since he was little, Willas Tyrell had fought had to keep that image that had almost been necessary. Even after his leg had been injured and he'd been unable to ride or fight, he dedicated himself to learning how to be the best possible Lord he could.
But now, after months in the North, Willas was starting to question the need for such…extravagance. With the amount of coin their people shelled out for polish, or on the newest trends of fashion, or the newest alteration of steel, they could easily pay to feed half the realm for years. It was…wasteful. And if he could see it, he knew without a doubt that his future wife would see it as well the moment she stepped foot into Highgarden. 'It will certainly be an interesting day when my future wife, Lady Sansa, finally steps foot in her new home. Margaery's new handmaiden from the North has already made her distaste of the waste clear. But she lacks the authority to truly change things. But Sansa? By the gods…things will never be dull around here.'
"And Loras as absolutely positive about this…news?"
Giving himself a shake, Willas forced his mind back to the here and now, which just so happened to be a family meeting that his grandmother had called after they'd received word from Loras about a certain development that was still not widely known. The only member of their family who wasn't present was Margaery, as his sister was out with her handmaiden from the North pursuing another one of her passion projects to aid the orphanage that was located within Highgarden. The one who'd asked the question had been his father, who had gone almost white at the news and was trembling slightly.
"Of course he's positive about it," Willas's grandmother, the matriarch and unquestioned voice of House Tyrell, scoffed. "He may enjoy playing with the fancy stick of his far too often, but he is not a fool. He would not have sent word if he wasn't certain of what he was sending. Especially not when concerning such a matter."
The news that his brother had sent to them was news from the North, and something that only a very select few in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms knew about, though he was sure that was about to change very soon. "The North…have discovered how to forge Valyrian steel…new Valyrian steel." His father muttered, finally giving voice to the very topic that had brought them all together. Though then his eyes went hard, and he glared at the matriarch. "And you, my children, were right in the midst of Winterfell while this discovery was being made! And you didn't even know?"
Willas wasn't entirely sure what had brought on such a change in his father, but ever since they'd returned from the North, his Lord father had become much more…well…competitive with his grandmother. And while Willas would openly admit that his grandmother could be a bit…overbearing at times, she was incredibly wise and should not be dismissed as readily as his father had been doing as of late.
"Watch your tone, young man," his grandmother warned, narrowing her eyes at his father. "I may have one foot in my grave, but I can still use my other foot to boot you in the arse if need be, Mace. Though, I will admit that we were underprepared to deal with the Sorcerer, and by extension the Starks, when we set out to the North."
His father pursed his lips and huffed. "Well, I suppose that it is all well and good then that we managed to secure the eldest Stark girl as Willas's future wife. We'll have to send a good Septa North to ensure that she is well trained and ready to do her duties as the wife to the future Lord of the Reach."
"We won't be sending a Septa to Winterfell, father," Willas countered almost immediately, drawing a sharp look from his father.
"The Starks themselves put that clause in, that the girl is to receive proper instruction on her future duties as the next Lady of House Tyrell."
"Yes, they did," Willas nodded. "But Lord Stark made it very clear to grandmother that a Septa would not be tolerated nor even allowed into the North. And I will not allow you to alienate my future wife or her House. Grandmother and Margaery have already compiled a list of suitable candidates for the position, mostly fellow Ladies from the Reach. Once a decision is made, we will send a raven to Winterfell and let him make his choice of which one."
His father huffed and shook his head. "Surely, they are not insisting that we send a true Lady of the Reach to the North? It will be years before the girl comes of age and you two marry beneath the Seven. We cannot ask any of—"
"I already have," his grandmother cut in, leveling a hard look at his father that quieted him immediately. "I've sent out over a dozen ravens to those I thought might be suitable, all high-ranking ladies with the Reach. They have all responded as well. Not only did each of them respond with a 'yes', but most were also almost begging me to give them the honor and asking how soon they would need to depart for the North."
His father could only blink in confusion. "They…They have? But…why?"
"Why?" his grandmother scoffed. "Do you really need me to spell this out to you, Mace? Sansa is to be the next Lady of House Tyrell, the next Lady of the Reach. She will be the mother of our family's next generation that will one day take over once Willas has passed the mantle on. What fool wouldn't do anything for the chance to get in close to her while she is still young? To teach her and form a bond with her? Such a bond, if form properly, can last a lifetime. And when it comes time for Willas's and Sansa's children to start marrying, who do you think the girl might lean towards?"
"But why would anyone want to leave the Reach for the North? And be gone for years? Even during the summer years?" Mace questioned.
"Because they can see past their next meal, Mace," his grandmother replied. "But we are not here to speak of Sansa's tutor, Willas and I will handle that later. Right now, we are here to discuss this new development with the North. According to the letter Loras sent us, it wasn't necessarily the Starks nor the Sorcerer who can truly be credited with figuring out how to forge Valyrian steel. That honor seems to belong to one of the Sorcerer's students…and one of Robert Baratheon's bastard children at that."
"A bastard, the king's bastard to be sure…but still. Who would have ever thought a bastard child would be the one to figure out how to forge new Valyrian steel after centuries of the most learned men and blacksmiths across the lands have tried and failed," his father added, shaking his head as he begun to pace back and forth. "Surely the boy had help? And the Sorcerer is just…letting him take the credit?"
"The Sorcerer isn't that kind of man, father," Garlan stated, speaking up for one of the first times since they'd come together. "If the Sorcerer does something of note, and this is something of note, you can damn well bet he won't simply let others take the credit. Nor does he take credit away from where it belongs. And not to mention, I spoke several times with this bastard, Gendry, while we were in Winterfell. He might be a bit, well, slow. But I honestly have not seen a more natural blacksmith in all my years. He not only repaired my armor after our trek north of the Wall, but he even pointed out some faults to it that not even I had considered. And don't forget, Gendry might be a blacksmith, but he is also an Acolyte of the Sorcerer. Meaning he has access to this Force of theirs and is capable of doing things that no other blacksmith in the world would think possible."
"Regardless of whether he had help or not, according to what we know, this Gendry is the only one who currently knows the full process of how to create Valyrian steel," his grandmother said. "We have time. Even if the Sorcerer hoards those with magic with a greater zeal than a mother hen. But once the boy is ready…every House of note across Westeros and Essos will be throwing every of everything they have at the boy hoping to entice him. Gold, status, daughters, sisters, mothers…hells even men if that is his fancy. Then there is also the unknown of what the King will do once the boy is of age. He might be a bastard, more than likely by some whore or common girl. But the King will no doubt legitimize him as soon as he is capable of doing so. So we must be ready to meet and exceed whatever offer the boy receives. In the end, he must be tied to House Tyrell and Highgarden in some manner."
As they all began pondering just how to entice the young lad into their service, a hard knock on the door interrupted them. "My Lords, my Ladies," the guard posted outside called in through the still closed door. "The Maester is here, he says that he has a raven from the North."
"Send him in," Willas said immediately, hoping that the raven was from Winterfell. Sansa might still be a girl, but he had truly taken a liking to her and he could easily see himself coming to love her after they were married.
When the new Highgarden Maester slowly made into the room with his head held down, Willas couldn't help but cast a glance towards his grandmother. When the Order of the Guiding Hand had been exposed within the Maester Order, their own Maester had been implicated in their involvement. But before he could be taken for questioning, the man had apparently decided to end his life. Though Willas had his doubts about that. No one seeking to end their life would go about the act by downing every painful poison they had before throwing themselves off a low tower and right onto a rack of spears. He suspected that his grandmother had a hand in the man's demise, though he had never questioned her about it.
"Forgive the intrusion, my Lords, my Ladies," the Maester mumbled, not looking up while holding out a raven's scroll. "A raven from the North. For Ser Garlan."
Willas had been about ready to rise and take the raven, but then stopped when he heard that it was for Garlan and not him. "For me?" Garlan questioned, getting up and heading over to the Maester to take the scroll.
"Why would the Starks be sending a raven to Garlan?" their mother, Alerie, asked as Garlan unfurled the scroll.
"The raven did not come from Winterfell, my Lady, but rather from the Dreadfort," the Maester answered, drawing a sharp look from their father, who quickly dismissed the Maester with a wave of his hand, a dismissal the Maester was almost tripping over himself to follow.
"The Dreadfort?" his father questioned. "Isn't that the keep where Lord Stark sent those wildling savages to? I didn't even think they knew how to read and write."
"Don't belittle the Free Folk father," Willas said, feeling the need to interject as his brother had gone oddly silent as he read the letter over and over. "And please don't refer to them as 'wildlings'. Sure, there are still many north of the Wall that live up to the reputation of the wildlings, but most do not. Especially not those amongst the number that swore themselves to House Stark so that they could build a better life for themselves. Isn't that right, Garlan? …Garlan?"
All attention had turned to his brother, who was staring at the letter with a completely shocked expression on his face. "It's…It's from Karsi… She… She had a son… My son."
One could've heard a pin drop with how silent the room suddenly became. That was of course until his father yelled louder than Willas had ever heard him do so before. "WHAT?!"
Giving himself a shake and after handing the letter off to Willas so that he could read it over, Garlan turned and faced their father, "Karsi, she's a former chieftain of the Free Folk under Lady Val Norfolk, and she is the Captain of the Guard at the Dreadfort. We, well, we grew close after what happened north of the Wall and…and she just had my son."
Reading the letter over quickly, Willas looked up at his father's face, which was starting to turn a unique shade of red. "You…You…Ser Garlan the Gallant…begot a bastard child upon a wildling savage!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?"
Willas was stunned, as was everyone else in the room. His father rarely, if ever, cursed or even yelled. Especially not at his own family. Garlan was so taken aback by the sudden hostility that he was seemingly at a loss for words, "What? I – well…yes, bu—"
"What does the savage want?!" their father shouted, rushing over and all but ripping the letter out of his hands. "Coin? That's it, isn't it? She's trying to get as much coin as she can from us or perhaps even set herself up here as if we would ever allow such a savage to come within a hundred leagues of Highgarden!"
"What? No! Karsi is not like that, father!" Garlan shouted back, finally regaining his wits as he strode forward and snatched the scroll out of his father's clenched fists. "She doesn't want gold or titles or anything like that! The letter was just her telling me of the birth of our son! She understands the stigma our son would attract here in the Reach, so she has decided to raise him in the North. But she wants me to be part of our son's life! That's all!"
The whole situation, between his brother finding out he was a father to their own father's reaction to the news, had thrown Willas so bad that he could do little more than watch as his brother and father faced off against one another. His father, while clearly taken back by how quickly Garlan had jumped to Karsi's defense, wasn't backing down. "She doesn't want coin?"
"No," Garlan replied swiftly.
"And she's not planning on making her way here to our home with the bastard?"
"No," Garlan hissed, this time taking a step towards their father. "Because she knows that this—this here—is the type of reaction her and my son's presence would create!"
Their father nodded. "I see, well then, if that is the case then there is no issue. However, the issue of this bastard will remain private within our family and will not be spoken of again."
"Don't be a fool, Mace," their grandmother spoke up immediately. "This is our chance to better our ties with the North—"
"At the expense of our reputation, mother!" their father shot back, shaking his head and turning to Garlan. "I'm not saying you have to completely deny your bastard's existence son. Merely that word cannot spread. The Reach is known throughout the land as the beacon of chivalry and for our respect to the Faith of the Seven. And we, as the rulers of the Reach, must be the example, not the exception to this. You may visit the bastard if you wish, but it must be done in the North. He cannot come south. Nor can his presence be known…especially as I am currently working on a betrothal for yourself and the Lady Leonette Fossoway. If word of your bastard reaches the ears of House Fossoway, the betrothal will more than likely fall through and even if it doesn't, the terms for the betrothal will not end in our favor."
"I…see," Garlan replied lowly, his hands clenched so tightly that they were shaking. "Excuse me…I feel the need for some air." And without waiting for an answer, Garlan immediately turned and marched out of the room, throwing the doors open with such force that they rebounded off the stone walls and nearly hit the guards that'd been posted outside.
Sighing, Willas got to his feet. "Where are you going, Willas?" his mother asked as Willas made his way towards the door.
"After my brother," he responded loudly, before adding in a much quieter voice so that it wouldn't be heard. "Someone in this family needs to care about our actual welfare and not just our value."
It didn't take him long to find Garlan. Ever since his brother was little whenever he was upset by something he always retreated to the same place. The training yard so that he could take his frustrations out on whatever unfortunate training dummy got in his way. And that was exactly where Garlan was now, hacking away at a training dummy with such ferocity that bits of cloth, straw, and wood were flying in response to each of his blows. Leaning back against a nearby fence post, Willas watched in silence as his brother worked out his frustrations on the dummy. It took a long time. But after decapitating the dummy with a heavy strike, Garlan stabbed the tip of his sword into the ground before turning towards him. "Willas."
"Garlan," he responded simply, nodding towards the decapitated dummy. "Are you alright now?"
Scoffing, Garlan shook his head. "No, I'm fairly fucking far from 'alright', brother. I was just told by our father that not only can I never bring my son—my fucking son!—to see his family's home, but that he's also working on arranging a betrothal for myself."
Frowning, Willas mulled over just what to say to his brother. "You knew that this was a possibility, brother," he said. "You've known ever since you were young that your wife will more than likely be chosen for you. And you bedded Karsi knowing this as well…and you know full well the potential consequences that come with bedding a woman."
"I know, brother! I mean…I knew all of that when Karsi invited me to her tent that first time, hells we even spoke of it before I allowed anything to happen. Her response was that she wasn't looking to 'steal me' nor I her, she just wanted a good tumble. Then that just kept happening night after night and…shit. I just don't know, brother."
Walking towards Garlan, Willas put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Do you love her, brother?"
"I respect her, Willas," he answered almost immediately. "I mean, after learning more about the Free Folk and how they must live. What Karsi had to go through to get where she was? I mean, how could I not? And I honestly could see myself with her as my wife… But… Even now… Even after she's had my child, my son. I don't know if we'd spent enough time together to say that I truly 'love' her. But I do know that I care for her. And, I can be blunt with you, brother… If I had my choice, I would much rather marry a warrior woman like Karsi than some delicate Lady who faints at the sight of a bloody nose."
Patting his brother on the shoulder, Willas let his hand drop to his side. "I can't put a stop to the betrothal, brother, not fully. But these things can be…delayed for a long time. Just let grandmother and I work on it. You and Loras might be the warriors of the family. But grandmother, Margaery and I are the game players here. And when the time comes that I can fully take on the mantle of Lord Tyrell… Well, things can change."
Biting his lip, Garlan nodded. "And…what about my son?"
Smirking, Willas motioned for Garlan to walk with him out of the yard. "Father only prohibited your son from venturing into the Reach. He never said anything about you visiting him in the North. My betrothed will still be calling Winterfell her home for years yet, it wouldn't be unusual for a member of my family to travel to the North to get better acquainted with my future wife. The Dreadfort is just a few days ride from Winterfell, if I remember correctly. Not only that but remember what else we've heard. The King is planning a grand tourney to celebrate three-hundred years of a united Seven Kingdoms. A tournament that will not be held in the Reach and one that many will be expected to attend. Especially a new House like the Norfolk."
Pausing mid-step, Garlan stared at his brother. "I'm not sure just who is the worse of you three, brother. You, Margaery, or grandmother. But I am certainly glad that all three of you are related to me."
Standing on one of the many piers stretching out into the Bite from White Harbor, Jon Stark's gaze lingered to the south as he felt the cool, comforting touch of the cold northern wind passing him by and billowing his cloak around him. Despite being back in the comfort of the cold, Jon felt an ache in his chest. A sense of loss. And it was with no small amount of surprise that he found himself missing the warmth of Dorne. Or rather, missing just who the warmth brought. Arianne. His betrothed. His future wife. "How long do ya plan on standing here gazin off to the south, Jon Stark?"
Glancing sideways, Jon caught sight of fiery red hair waving in the cool wind. "Don't tell me you don't feel the same, Ygritte," he said with a knowing smirk. "You've wanted to head back south ever since we left Sunspear."
Smirking, Ygritte came up to stand beside him. "Well, I can admit that I miss having so much fun between those silken sheets in Dorne, and the way they dress was certainly appealing to me eyes. But the heat…I don't think I will ever get use to that fuckin heat…though if it means stayin with ya and Arianne…then I suppose that I can find a way. Though if ya keep broodin like this, I might start to think that you prefer her instead of me."
Reaching out, Jon wrapped his arm around Ygritte's slim waist and pulled her close. "I love you both equally, Ygritte," It was the truth, he truly did love both Arianne and Ygritte, and he could no longer see a future where he was not without both. "Please don't ever think I prefer her over you…comparing you to her… It's like comparing the beauties of sunrises and sunsets."
Smirking, Ygritte moved in close and pressed her lips to his. "Keep sayin nice things like that…and I'll be takin ya right here and now, Jon Stark." Giving him one more quick peck, Ygritte moved back and looked towards the south. "But me question remains, Jon. Why are we still here? We've been back in the North for days now and you won't let us leave this…city. Even knowin that yer brother will be marryin soon, ya still refuse to leave this place."
She wasn't wrong. Four days ago, when they'd first arrived back in the North, Jon had wanted to do nothing more than head immediately for Winterfell, especially as he knew that his brother's wedding was set to occur soon and that the Lords and Ladies from across the North were already beginning to make their way towards Winterfell. But something was holding him back. Something he couldn't quite identify in the Force was telling him that it was necessary for him to stay in White Harbor. Though for what reason he had no idea. He just knew that he had to stay here for now. And so, he delayed his return to Winterfell. And Lord Manderly, being a good Lord and host, had taken his words to heart about his need to stay and had decided to postpone his own trip to Winterfell till Jon was ready to leave. Which was now putting even more pressure on Jon to leave as he was holding up one of the major Houses of the North.
"Just a bit longer," Jon said, though he wasn't sure just who he was trying to convince at this point. Ygritte or himself. "Something is coming…I just don't kn—"
The sounding of the harbor bell announcing the arrival of an unknown ship on the horizon cut Jon off. Straining his eyes, Jon stared off towards the south. He could just barely make out what looked like three ships slowly approaching from the Narrow Sea. But at this distance it was impossible for him to tell any more than their number. 'Not enough for an attack…but who are they? They're not trading vessels…'
"Come on," Jon said, motioning for Ygritte to follow him as he made his way towards the main dock of White Harbor, figuring that if the vessels intended to dock, that was where they would go.
By the time the two reach the dock, the ships had come close enough that Jon could make out the sigil embroidered across the sail. A sigil of what looked like a lion, only without a mane and covered with stripes. A sigil that he recognized yet had seen only once before in his life. "Send a runner to New Castle," Jon commanded of a nearby guardsman. "Inform Lord Manderly that we have guests arriving from Volantis."
"Volantis?" Ygritte questioned as one of the guardsmen went running to inform the Manderlys of their arriving guests. Though Jon was sure that they were already aware of them. "Isn't dat the land were Talisa be coming from?"
"Aye, it is." Jon nodded as he watched the three ships continue to make their way towards the dock.
Ygritte stared at the ships in contemplation. "Are they here to try and steal her back?"
Frowning, Jon watched as two of the ship lowered their sails, leaving the third to approach alone. "No. If they had come meaning to take Talisa back by force, then they would have brought far more than this."
As the ship drew close enough for Jon to start making out the individual sailors onboard, they were joined by Ser Wylis Manderly, the heir to House Manderly. "Whitewolf," Wylis nodded in greeting, using the name that many amongst the North had taken to calling him as of late. "Or should it be 'sandwolf' now?"
Jon shifted uncomfortably. Despite his best attempts at stopping it, news of his impending betrothal with Arianne had spread like wildfire. And the reaction to the news had been, well, mixed. There were some amongst the North that were clearly looking down at him for marrying outside the North. Others who seemed to wish him well. And others who seemed indifferent about the news. House Manderly, at least from what he could tell, seemed to want to wish him well, but he could clearly see that they were not entirely pleased that he had been betrothed to someone not of the North. No doubt because they were hoping that he would be betrothed to one of Ser Wylis's daughters instead.
"No, I will always be a 'whitewolf'," Jon answered, fixing his gaze on the ship that was just about to dock. "No matter if I am in the North or not, I will always carry the North in my heart. And I will always be one of the First Men and a man of House Stark first and foremost."
"Strong words, lad," Ser Wylis nodded in approval. "Remember them, even when yer in the warmth of the south. Now, let's see what new shit storm these visitors are bringing with them, shall we?"
'I think I have a good idea,' Jon thought as he watched the sailors from the ships throw their heavy ropes to the dockhands so that the ship could be tied off.
Letting Ser Wylis take the lead, Jon and Ygritte fell into step behind the large man as the three of them made their way towards where a gangplank was being lowered from the ship to the dock. As soon as the gangplank touched down, three guardsmen immediately made their way down. 'Tiger cloaks,' Jon realized as he observed the men with green stripes tattooed onto their faces arranged themselves at the base of the gangplank. 'Well…I guess that solves just who has come. As far as I know from what Talisa has told us, the Tiger cloaks only act as guards for one very specific group of individuals in Volantis.'
Once the guards were in place, a trio of individuals, a man, a woman, and a young boy no older than Bran, appeared at the top of the gangplank and began making their way down. Jon's suspicion about just who had arrived was immediately put to rest as soon as he got a good look at the three. The woman was the true give away, as she looked almost exactly like her daughter. Sharing a look with Ser Wylis, who no doubt realized just who these three were, the older man of House Manderly gave him a nod, silently allowing Jon to take the lead in this matter. Understandable, considering this was a matter regarding House Stark.
As soon as the man stepped foot upon the dock, Jon immediately stepped forward, keeping a fair distance from the tiger cloaks to not draw their ire. "Honored Triarch," Jon greeted the man, using what little High Valyrian he'd learned from Talisa. "I am Jon Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark and brother to Lord Robb Stark. On behalf of House Stark, I welcome you and your family to the North."
The man in the lead stopped almost immediately upon hearing Jon speak. Taking the moment of pause, Jon carefully examined each member of Talisa's family. Her mother looked almost exactly like her with only a few wrinkles near the corners of her eyes to show her age. The Triarch reminded Jon a lot of his father. A man who had been hardened by what he'd seen and was not one to play words and would rather let his actions speak for him. But as for the young boy, while he tried to hold himself to the standard his parents were setting, it was clear he was in awe with everything that he was seeing. Something which Jon could understand. He was much the same when he had visited Volantis for the first time. "I was not expecting to be greeted by a man of House Stark so soon upon our arrival." The Triach replied in the common tongue, much to Jon's relief. "Nor did I expect a member of House Stark to speak High Valyrian."
"Lady Talisa is a fine teacher, honored Triarch. Though I fear that is all that I can speak as tongues are not one of my skills," Jon replied, to which he heard Ygritte murmur something that sounded like, 'Arianne and I disagree on that'.
"My daughter has always been one to teach others," the older woman stated proudly. "I am the noblewoman Marquess Maegyr, wife to Triarch Malaquo Maegyr. And this is our son, Maliki."
Nodding his head, Jon returned the greeting in kind. "It is an honor to meet you, noblewoman Maegyr, young Maliki. May I introduce to you all Ser Wylis Manderly of House Manderly and heir to White Harbor. And this is Ygritte of the Norfolk." Jon had almost introduced Ygritte as 'of the Free Folk', but he thought better of it at the last minute. She was technically no longer of the Free Folk north of the Wall, but rather of the Norfolk that had taken up residence in the Dreadfort under Lady Val Norfolk.
The two elder Maegyr's both gave Ygritte little more than a passing glance before seemingly dismissing her as unimportant and instead focusing their attention on Ser Wylis. The dismissal caused a surge of anger within Jon, and he didn't need a mirror to know that his eyes flashed yellow for a moment before he managed to regain control of himself. He could tell that Ygritte was equally unamused as she just continued to stare at the trio while Ser Wylis made his introductions to the visitors. "—of course, my father would be more than pleased to house you and yours while you are here in the North, honored Triarch," Ser Wylis was finishing up by the time Jon finally came back to the conversation at hand.
"Your offer is appreciated, but there is no need," the Triarch responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We will be making our way towards the Stark lands and this…Winterfell as soon as our things are unloaded, and we are ready to depart."
Ser Wylis nodded his understanding, "I can understand your want for haste, honored Triarch. Might I suggest that we share the road together? House Manderly was planning on leaving on the morrow for Winterfell to pay our respects to our future liege Lady in person. And the young Lord Stark here has been away from his home in Dorne for several moons and is ready to depart as well. Perhaps we might all travel as one? The Wolf Rangers keep the roads clear, but it is still better to travel in numbers."
For a moment, Jon was sure that the man would turn down the offer, but after seemingly thinking about it for a moment he nodded his acceptance. "We will agree to your request. One night, Ser Wylis, Heir of White Harbor. And then we will be leaving for Winterfell regardless."
"Understandable, and I can assure you that House Manderly will be ready to depart at first light," Ser Wylis nodded before turning his considerable girth and motioning towards New Castle. "Now, if you may permit me, I will escort you to New Castle and the Merman's Court so that you might meet my father and rest your heads for the night."
The Triarch nodded, and without him even having to say a word, the Tiger cloaks behind him immediately arranged themselves into a triangle pattern so that there was one of them one each side of them and one behind them. As they began the walk, Jon noticed that Talisa's brother, Maliki, kept sneaking glances towards him. After catching him for the third time, causing the young man to duck his head and redden, Jon spoke up. "Is there something you would like to ask me, young ser?"
Maliki cast a glance towards his father and mother, but both continued looking straight head while listening to Ser Wylis explain the different areas of White Harbor. "I – I've heard that the Starks have…magic? Do you?"
Smiling, Jon held out his hand and wordlessly summoned a small pebble off the ground and into his outstretched hand. His actions didn't go unnoticed by the Triarch nor by his wife as both ceased their conversation with Ser Wylis and started obviously paying attention to him while not actually turning their heads towards him. Using the Force to hold the small pebble aloft, Jon waited until Maliki reached out and grabbed the stone before letting go. "Aye, I have been gifted with the Force. Just like all my siblings. And even Ygritte here has magic, though of a different type than my own."
Maliki's eyes widened as he leaned forward so that he could glance at Ygritte, who was on the other side of Jon from him. Never one to be shy, Ygritte held up her hand with the amulet. A small rivulet of fire formed around her hand, dancing between her fingers and then disappeared.
The act caused a stir amongst the tiger cloaks, or at least as much of a stir as Jon had seen from them so far, which even then was only one of them murmuring something about 'rallor', or something along those lines. Jon wasn't sure what it meant, though he sure he would ask Talisa when he met her next, but apparently it was enough to cause Malaquo to turn and silence the guard who said it with only a single hard glance. Maliki looked like he was about to say something, but his mother's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"That is quite a gift you have, young lady," the noblewoman said, no longer seemingly dismissing Ygritte's presence. "Tell me, what is the status of your family? Are you noble born? Betrothed to someone, perhaps? Or are you a guardswoman for the young Stark Lord here?"
Ygritte shook her head and lowered her hand. Even though she was once considered a 'wildling', she did have a sharp mind. She immediately knew what the woman was heading towards. "Me family died when I was but a girl, and there be no 'nobles' as ya kneelers call them north of the Wall. Me gifts are ones from the gods, the true gods of the First Men. I ain't no guardswoman for Jon Stark here, but he did steal me. He and his betrothed…and what a fun stealin it was. Again, and again, again in so—"
"I believe you have sated my wife's curiosity, Ygritte of the Norfolk," Malaquo interjected. "However, I do believe that my son is just a few years shy of hearing of your activities. And I would appreciate you keeping that thought in mind."
"As ya say, honored Triarch," Ygritte bowed with only a hint of mocking in her voice.
Shaking his head, Jon and Ygritte continued to follow the group towards New Castle. As they entered the castle grounds, Jon's only thought was how quickly he could break away from the group so that he could get a raven to Winterfell as quickly as possible.