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The Modern Soul as Gregor Cleane (GOT) (ASOFAI)

[Long Chapters] [Add this fanfic to your library for more chapters] --------- Gregor Clegane was one of the worst people to have ever existed. But what if someone else lived his life? What if a modern person of sound mind and honorable character was reborn as The Mountain? How would his rational and reasonable mind impact the ultimate outcome of Westeros? He just might be able to change the world for the better... --------- A young American federal agent is killed in the line of duty. He is reborn into his favorite fantasy world… as one of its most feared, most hated, and most notorious characters. He quickly discovers that he can make that work to his favor, and to the favor of many others.

Game_of_thrones · Book&Literature
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67 Chs

Chapter 54: It's… it's Milady, Ser!

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Oberyn nodded his head, folded his arms, and stated "That is more than acceptable."

The meeting ended ten minutes later. Immediately after leaving the council chambers, Gregor Clegane, Oberyn Martell, Brynden Tully, and Garth Hightower went straight to the rookery.

There the Mountain and the Red Viper composed a letter to King's Landing. At the same time, the Blackfish wrote a letter to Winterfell and the second son of Lord Leyton Hightower wrote a letter to Highgarden.

As soon as each letter was complete, a raven was dispatched to its intended destination.

Although over three dozen potential marriage contracts had been proposed at the meeting, the one between Robb and Margaery was the only one Gregor wished to follow up on right away. The sooner the idea reached Winterfell and Highgarden, the more chances it had to happen.

After the ravens were sent out, there was nothing more Gregor or his ten companions could do but wait for answers.

Three days later, Lord Jorah Mormont, Lady Maege Mormont, and her three youngest daughters left for Bear Island. Four more days later, Sandor Clegane, Ellyn Clegane, and Daliah Clegane set out for Clegane's Keep.

Just before he left, Sandor shared a rather affectionate good-bye with the two eldest Sand Snakes. He embraced Nymeria warmly and kissed her on either cheek. He embraced Obara, as well, but when he tried to peck her on the cheeks, she went one step further and kissed him full on the mouth.

After a single instant of shock, Sandor eased down and kissed her back. For a burly young man with aggressive tendencies, he was a very tender kisser.

Now 'that' was what Gregor called a sign.

The next month was relatively uneventful. Apart from quelling a few groups of bandits and tracking down the occasional runaway criminal, nothing especially noteworthy happened for the Legion without Banners.

Gregor still had yet to hear back from King Robert, Lord Eddard, or Lord Mace. But he was holding out hope that they (and the people around them) would come through for him.

Halfway through the first month of the 287th year after Aegon's Conquest, something very significant took place.

One day, in the late morning, Lord Gregor Clegane was alone in his solar. He was seated at his desk, reviewing a number of reports from his officers (The closest thing they have to paperwork here). He had a tankard of cranberry juice by his side.

Most other lords would have preferred a mug of ale or beer, but Gregor had never been much of a drinker in either of his lives. He allowed himself a goblet or two of wine at feasts, but other than that, he tried to stay sober as often as possible.

He was in the middle of examining the roster of the Legion's newest recruits when he heard a loud thumping outside the door.

He promptly looked up and called out "Come in."

It was Dunsen who stepped inside the room. He entered very hastily, and he was breathing very rapidly, as though he was struggling to catch his breath. In fact, he was; he had sprinted all the way up to the solar from somewhere on the ground.

Concerned, Gregor rose from his chair and asked "Dunsen, is something wrong?"

"It's… it's Milady, Ser," Dunsen spoke through uneven breaths.

Although Dacey was not the only highborn woman at Moat Cailin, Gregor knew that whenever his men-at-arms mentioned "Milady," they were referring to his wife.

"What is it?" Gregor queried worriedly.

"Well, Ser, she…" Dunsen haltingly began. This time when he paused, it was not because of fatigue. Instead, it was due to apprehension. Then he took a deep breath and finished with "She fainted."

Gregor suddenly felt himself a little short of breath, too. He rose to his feet, walked around his desk and said demandingly "When? Where? Why?"

"Just now, in the training yard, and I don't know," Dunsen answered correspondingly, "The Smalljon and Prince Oberyn are taking her to Maester Kennick as we speak. They sent me to fetch you, if you're not too busy."

"Of course I'm not," Gregor solemnly declared. He retrieved his cloak from a hook on the wall and draped it around his shoulders. After tying it securely around his throat, he descended the Lord's Tower with Dunsen.

As they made their way back down to the ground, Gregor asked his man-at-arms "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Afraid not, Ser," Dunsen said apologetically, "I only arrived on the scene after Milady collapsed. By the time I found out what all the fuss was about, they were already moving her."

"Well, I'm grateful that you came straight to me," Gregor asserted.

"Glad to know, Ser," Dunsen muttered sincerely.

Ten minutes later, the Mountain and his retainer reached the maester's office. Oberyn Martell, Smalljon Umber, Rodrik Cassel, and quite a few others were standing outside the door. But only Gregor was allowed entrance to the room.

Inside the chamber, Maester Kennick was tending to Dacey. She had already regained consciousness, but she did not look well.

Her face glistened with perspiration, and many of her black locks were drenched in sweat. Her breathing was as unsteady as Dunsen's had been when he reached Gregor's solar.

One may have attributed that to the fact that Dacey had been in the training yard when she collapsed. She had been sparring with Ser Rodrik for twenty whole minutes beforehand. But Ser Rodrik – as well as everyone else who had been present – had noted that even before their duel began, Dacey had seemed fatigued or distracted. Every additional minute the duel lasted, her condition had worsened.

Despite how hot Dacey looked, her upper body was wrapped in a blanket.

At a glance, Gregor would have guessed she had a fever. But as the weather indicated, Westeros was in the process of switching from summer to winter. As far as Gregor knew, autumn fever was not a thing in any part of the country, including the North.

Gregor went to his wife's side, knelt beside her, and took her hands in his. He asked worriedly "Are you alright?"

She slowly turned to face her husband. She did not look alright. All the same, she managed to nod her head a bit, and she insisted "Yeah, I'm just… just a little dizzy."

Then she balked and clasped her hand over her mouth, which suggested she was about to vomit.

Gregor spotted a chamber pot across the room. He hurriedly went over to it, picked it up, and brought it over to his wife. He held it near her, just in case.

Fortunately for Dacey, she managed to avoid throwing up. Unfortunately for Gregor, he had not realized that the chamber pot was not empty. Either Maester Kennick had used it that morning or the servants had not yet cleaned it out. Gregor smelt the contents of the chamber pot before he saw them, and when he saw them, he gagged. He quickly returned the chamber pot to its original spot, but his disgust lingered.

Dacey was amused by her husband's actions. She commented drily "I wonder who's more likely to retch now: you or me."

Gregor was not as entertained. He murmured sardonically "Is now really the best time for jokes?"

"It might actually be, my lord," Maester Kennick perceived, "We'll probably laughing about this before long."

"I'd rather you wait until you finish examining my wife to make that declaration," Gregor muttered sternly.

"As you wish, my lord," Kennick conceded, "I'll be done soon. I just need to ask her a question. A personal one. So, if you would not mind…?"

At that, Gregor nodded and took a few steps back so that Kennick could talk to Dacey in relative privacy. He whispered something into her ear. In response, her eyes widened and she looked at him in astonishment. A few seconds later, she stared at her feet and uttered softly "Well… six weeks ago, I suppose."

'Six weeks ago? The hells does that mean? What happened six weeks ago?'

Before he could ask anyone that question, Kennick turned to the Mountain and gestured for him to come back over. Gregor gradually walked back over to the maester and his wife. Both of them were grinning now.

"Lord Gregor, I'm pleased to tell you there is nothing wrong with Lady Dacey," Maester Kennick informed him.

Gregor let out a sigh of relief and knelt by Dacey's side again. As he held her hands in his right one again, he assumed "So she's perfectly healthy?"

"Yes," Kennick affirmed. He knelt on Dacey's other side and slyly added in "Both of them are, in fact."

Before, Gregor had simply been confused. Now he was dumbfounded. "Both?"

"Yes, Lady Dacey and…" Maester Kennick took Gregor's free hand and brought it to Dacey's abdomen. He had the Mountain rest his hand there for a few seconds.

The truth dawned on Gregor very suddenly. He stared at his hand on his wife's lower body for a few more seconds, and then he gradually looked up at her and the maester. He said very quietly "You mean…?"

Maester Kennick nodded his head and announced "Lady Dacey is with child, my lord."

Upon hearing the confirmation to what he had already begun to suspect, Gregor seemed to freeze in his position. He gave no immediate reaction to that statement. Dacey and Maester Kennick watched him closely, eager for his response.

Then Kennick's theory came true; Gregor did laugh. Dacey and the maester soon joined in. They laughed in relief for how they had been needlessly worried, they laughed in amusement for how worked up they had been over this matter, and they laughed in joy for how a child would be born at Moat Cailin later that year.

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