Ch-9

The war didn't last long, and the Ironborn were eventually subdued, though Robert's victory brought little peace to the land. As for us, we spent three months in Tumbleton. Edric managed to bring in ten bandit heads, earning a respectable sum in bounties. But most of that silver found its way back into the hands of the whores at Golden Tits.

When we finally left Tumbleton, both of us were in high spirits. Edric, having enjoyed the "company" of every woman in the brothel, was content, while I had mastered my new combat technique during our downtime. We'd learned of a protection job in Fawnton, so that was our next destination.

The strangest thing, though, was the eagle. It had completely healed by the time we left, but it hadn't flown away. Instead, it had bonded with me, following us on our travels. I even had a leather patch sewn onto my shoulder so it could perch comfortably while we rode.

Edric still found the name I gave the eagle amusing. "Golden, eh? I still think you should've named it something better. If you're set on calling it after where we found it, might as well go with 'Golden Tits,' or better yet, just 'Whore.'" He laughed heartily at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes. "No, Edric. We're not naming the eagle 'Whore.' Golden is fine."

The next few years passed with little excitement—at least, nothing out of the ordinary. Guard duties, bandit hunts, and more than our share of brothel visits filled our time. I turned thirteen, and my bond with Edric grew. We had an easy camaraderie, though I knew I was a strange one in his eyes. From boiling water before drinking it to brushing my teeth with saltwater, my habits set me apart.

But something else began happening when I turned thirteen: dreams. They started simple, always the same—a sensation of soaring through the sky, with every detail on the ground magnified to an almost overwhelming clarity. At first, I dismissed them as vivid dreams, but after nearly a month of these nightly flights, I realized the truth. I was a warg. I was entering Golden's mind, involuntarily at first, but it became clear that this was no coincidence.

When I figured it out, I was thrilled beyond words. It made me think about my parents—especially my father, whom I'd never known. My mother was a bastard from the Riverlands, but had she been hiding a deeper secret about her bloodline? The ability to warg wasn't just something that happened by chance.

Once I knew I had the gift, I practiced. I focused on Golden, trying to enter his mind intentionally. The first few times, I failed, but eventually, I felt my consciousness slip into his wild, primal mind. It was exhilarating, even if it only lasted a few seconds. Seeing the world through an eagle's eyes was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Over time, I got better at it. After a month of practice, I could stay in Golden's body for almost an hour.

Let me tell you, flying is addictive. There were times I didn't want to return to my own body, but I knew better than to lose myself completely. Still, I found that my warg abilities were far less effective with other animals. Without the bond I had with Golden, I could barely stay in control for a minute.

Edric, ever observant, noticed my occasional moments of intense focus but didn't ask questions. I think he chalked it up to one of my many oddities, and I had plenty in his eyes. But by now, I had become his official squire. He took this responsibility seriously, teaching me horsemanship, jousting, and continuing our sword training. By the time I turned thirteen, I could hold my own against him in half of our sparring sessions, and he no longer held back when we fought.

Despite this progress, Edric still refused to take me on dangerous missions. I knew it was because he cared for me. He didn't say it outright, but I could see it in his actions. He was also saving money—something I noticed only when we started staying in cheaper inns instead of brothels. He wanted to buy me armor. I pretended not to notice, but the thought filled me with gratitude.

Edric had been offered a permanent position with land from the lord of Tumbleton during our time there, but he turned it down. He valued his freedom above all, refusing any assignment that could lead to fame or ties with a lord. It was something I had come to respect about him. He wasn't like other knights, constantly seeking glory or riches. He preferred the life we had—a life on the road, free from obligations to anyone but ourselves.

In time, I found myself adopting that same mindset. There was something peaceful about our simple existence, even if it was punctuated by violence and danger. And yet, in the back of my mind, I couldn't shake the feeling that war and chaos were coming. Westeros was about to fall into the grip of war again, and I wasn't sure what to do about it.