Chapter 35: Binding of two people

Power stones my boiiss

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Gregor considering not answering that question.

Not only had it come out of nowhere, but he also felt there were so many ways it could produce an unpleasant response from Dacey if he was too direct.

But then he reminded himself that Dacey had tremendous respect for honesty. If he was truthful with her, his answer should theoretically be enough to appease her.

Gregor thought on his response for a minute. Then he thought aloud "Unlike most lords, I'd prefer someone who is capable of independent thought. I would like her to be comely, and hopefully she'd have a womanly figure. It would be nice if she can fight and defend herself, as well. It'd like her to be intelligent and wise. I want her to have an open mind. I would expect her to be loyal, but not submissive. I'd wish for her to rule beside me, not behind me. Most of all…"

Dacey leaned closer, and she said inquiringly "What? What do you think is the most important aspect in a woman?"

Gregor was sorely tempted not to reply there. But he was in no position to back out. So he slowly turned to Dacey, looked her in the eye, and disclosed "I'd want her to like me."

The beautiful girl from Bear Island was visibly astonished when she was informed of that.

That was the type of reply she would have expected from a lovesick teenager, a wandering singer, or an overly-sentimental poet.

But to hear it from the mouth of the strongest and largest man in the entirety of Westeros… she was at a loss for words.

"Is that really what matters most to you in marriage?" Dacey queried, wanting to be certain.

"Marriage is a binding of two people," Gregor contended, "What good is that binding if there is no love involved? In the long run, does anything else truly matter?"

"Those are fine points," Dacey professed, "Given how popular you've become lately, it's perfectly realistic for you to want a bride who has feelings for you. After everything you've done as Master of Order, there are a whole lot of women in this country that like you. Including me."

"I'd call that a step in the right direction," Gregor wryly stated.

After that, the two Legionnaires sat in silence for a while. They gave more of their focus to the campfire than to each other.

Finally, Gregor rose from his seat, stretched, and declared "I'm going to turn in."

"Alright," Dacey avowed, "Hope you sleep well."

"Thanks," Gregor told her, "You, too. Assuming you actually go to sleep, that is."

"Oh, I intend to sleep," Dacey insisted, "But before I do, I'd like to have some alone. I've got some thoughts I'd like to get in order."

"I bet you do," was Gregor's candid response.

Gregor then retreated to his tent, where he undressed down to his tunic and breeches. He kept his longsword nearby, just in case anything happened in the night.

As he gradually drifted away to into a somewhat uneasy slumber, Gregor reflected on the conversation he just had with his female colleague.

'She's not the only one who has some thinking to do. This was the first time she and I really opened up to each other.'

'Maybe Sandor was right about the possibility that I will marry a Northwoman. If so… I suppose I needn't look any further. Because I honestly can't imagine a better option than Dacey. Even if I account for all the highborn girls that were just born or will be born soon.'

'Who knows? She could very well feel just the same about me. Maybe next time we sit around the campfire together, I can ask what her ideal husband would be like. If I'm anything like him, then I'm in luck. Even if by some chance I'm not, at least I'll know enough to form the groundwork of a meaningful and lasting relationship with Dacey.'

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Gregor crept quietly up the hill, clutching his shield in his left hand. Oberyn Martell and Rafford the Sweetling moved stealthily alongside him.

Both men were armed with spears, their signature weapon of choice.

They were being led to higher ground by Dolf and two of his men. Like his son Shagga, the son of Holger was a dual-wielder.

He carried a battleaxe in either hand. Despite his barbaric appearance and mannerisms, he moved with the silence and subtlety of a professional assassin.

When they reached the top of the hill, the six men crouched down and peered cautiously over the edge.

Just as Gurn had forecasted, there was a Milk Snakes camp in the valley below. The camp was bustling with activity.

There had to be at least sixty Milk Snakes in this one camp. There were no women or children, from what Gregor could see.

That was fortunate; he still tried to avoid incurring those types of casualties, even if they belonged to savage cultures.

The Milk Snakes certainly were savage. However uncivilized the Stone Crows seemed, the Milk Snakes were even less well-mannered.

The Stone Crows at least had some form of communal unity that kept them together. Gregor witnessed a general lack of cooperation between the Milk Snakes.

Even so, they did appear to be rather formidable warriors. The average Milk Snake was a little larger and stronger than the average Storm Crow, and they appeared far less capable of being reasoned with.

It was very early in the morning. Most of the Milk Snakes were just waking up. Those that had were in the process of disassembling tents, sharpening swords, and saddling their mounts (what few there were, anyway).

Strangely, none of them was making the time to break his fast.

"Looks like they're getting ready to move," Rafford observed.

"They seem in a hurry," Oberyn noted.

"Milk Snakes plan to attack Storm Crow camp," Dolf proclaimed.

"How can you be sure?" Gregor inquired.

"Because Dolf knows Milk Snakes," the clansman remarked.

"Good enough for me," Gregor muttered drily.

They remained kneeling for a few minutes. In that time, they constantly shifted their gaze between the dell and the hills around it.

If they squinted close enough, they could see the heads of their comrades peeking over the tops of those hills.

The Legionnaires and the Stone Crows had the Milk Snake camp surrounded on all sides.

"We should still have the element of surprise," Rafford contended.

"For now," Oberyn commented. He pointed out the eastern mountains. There was a faint haze of natural light forming in the distance. "The Sun's starting to rise over the horizon."

"We attack now or not at all," Dolf declared.

The five men turned to Gregor. Gurn had given the Mountain full command over this operation. The others were waiting for his signal to engage the enemy.

After a few seconds, Gregor lowered the visor on his helm, drew his longsword from its sheath, and told his companions "Make them bleed."

He then rose to his full height, held his sword high in the air, and let out a terrifying battle cry.

Immediately, Gregor and everyone in his company emerged from their cover and charged down into the dell.

Most of them let out a battle cry of their own as they sprinted downwards. The Milk Snakes were still trying to pinpoint the source of Gregor's shout when the Legionnaires and the Stone Crows were upon them.

The area was filled with the sounds of steel against iron. More often than not, steel triumphed over iron.

Gregor caught a glimpse of Oberyn running his spear through an armored Milk Snake warrior. A few meters away, Brynden Tully was fending off three more Milk Snakes by himself.

Before long, any of the Milk Snakes that had been asleep no longer were. They grabbed for their weapons, emerged from their tents, and rushed into the fray.

They were very quick to respond to this sudden threat.

One of the new arrivals spotted Gregor and ran towards him, swinging a cleaver. Gregor quickly lifted his weapon to intercept the blow.

He parried with the Milk Snake for ten seconds as he studied his opponent for an opening. Then he noticed a weak spot in the center of the Milk Snake's breastplate.

When the warrior took another swing at him, Gregor caught his weapon with his shield, pushed the blade aside, and shoved his sword into the center of the Milk Snake's chest.

Gregor had already withdrawn his sword and moved on to his next opponent before the first one had even collapsed onto the ground.

He was quickly approached by a Milk Snake with a longaxe. Gregor was able to counter his blows easily.

This Milk Snake's fighting style was too sloppy to be regarded as much of a challenge. When the warrior leaned back to strike Gregor from above, the Mountain rammed his shield into his face and slashed at his upper body with his sword.

The Milk Snake's shoulder was practically severed from his neck. He sputtered noisily and fell onto his chest.

Not five seconds later, Gregor faced a third opponent. This one brandished a spear. Gregor had spent enough time training with Prince Oberyn to learn how to evade a charge with a spear.

When this Milk Snake reached Gregor, he thrusted his weapon at the massive knight. Gregor dodged the stab and hacked at the assailant's neck.

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