CHAPTER 196

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CHAPTER 196

294 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

Dacey leaned against the stone wall, her gaze fixed on the training grounds where Aermir practiced his swordplay with Robb and Jon. Sansa approached her, and then Dacey turned toward Sansa, her eyes meeting hers with an air of challenge. Sansa said, "Aermir is a remarkable man. It's only natural that anyone who recognizes his worth would want to get closer to him."

Dacey's grip on her sword tightened, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. 

"And what makes you so sure you're the one who can get closer?"

Dacey's smile remained composed, her words carefully chosen; she continued. 

"Oh, I don't claim to have any special insight. But I do believe that sometimes, it's those who truly understand him, who've seen him for who he is beneath the surface, who stand a chance."

Dacey's chest puffed up as she recalled the countless conversations she'd shared with Aermir and the moments he told them he was the Druid Emrys. She felt a surge of pride, knowing she was one of the few privy to this information.

"You think you understand him better than anyone?" Dacey's tone was laced with challenge.

Sansa's gaze held a glint of determination. "I understand him in my own way. After all, he's the one who showed me what true freedom is."

Dacey's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and determination. "And you believe that's enough to win his heart?"

Sansa's smile was enigmatic. "Who's to say?"

The tension between them was palpable. This was the first time they dared to declare their intentions so openly, their rivalry for Aermir's affection. From this day forward, it was an open war. Dacey straightened, her voice edged with defiance. "Well, let me make one thing clear, Sansa. Aermir and I share a connection that goes beyond what you can imagine."

Sansa's gaze remained steady. "We'll see about that."

Dacey holds a profound admiration and infatuation for Aermir due to her knowledge that he is the Druid Emrys. On the other hand, Sansa's connection with Aermir runs deep, as he played a pivotal role in breaking the shackles that bound her and granting her freedom from a stifling existence. Through his influence, she not only learned the art of asserting herself but also underwent a remarkable transformation from a naive girl who once dreamed solely of princes into a self-assured and confident woman.

...

After the incident at the archery range, Aermir gained a newfound clarity about the dynamics between himself, Sansa, and Dacey. As he reflected on the events and banter of the previous day, he realized that Sansa and Dacey's interactions went beyond mere friendship. The subtle tension and underlying desires between them, which Aermir had failed to notice before, became apparent. 

Despite being oblivious to their romantic interests, Aermir recognized that both Sansa and Dacey were staking their claim on him in their own way. Sansa's loyalty and regal demeanor had been a constant comfort, but now, he saw a depth to her feelings that went beyond friendship. Similarly, Dacey, the formidable Mormont warrior, revealed a vulnerable side that surprised Aermir. 

The tension between the three became evident as Aermir acknowledged Sansa and Dacey's unique expressions of love. With this newfound awareness, Aermir's perception of Sansa and Dacey evolved, recognizing them as women with their own dreams and desires. The reason for this denseheaded action was his old soul, while he might have grown up with them. He saw them as a soldier and a little sister, but now his perception was changing little by little.

...

With no set destination in mind, Aermir ambled aimlessly through the alleys of Winterfell, absorbing the ambiance that seemed to echo his contemplative state. In the midst of his wandering, a glimpse of movement caught his attention. It was Rickon, the youngest Stark, making his way down to the crypt of Winterfell.

Intrigued by the child's actions, curiosity piqued within Aermir, prompting him to follow Rickon at a distance. There was something intriguing about the child's intentions, a mystery that beckoned him to explore further. As he trailed behind Rickon, the crypt's looming entrance seemed to hold secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Throughout the past years, Aermir had consistently maintained a friendly demeanor whenever he interacted with the young Stark, Rickon. However, a notable change had taken place over the last two years that perplexed Aermir. Despite his efforts to foster a warm rapport with Rickon, there had been a noticeable shift in the child's behavior whenever they crossed paths.

In stark contrast to their previous interactions, where laughter and camaraderie filled the air, the recent encounters felt different. Rickon's reactions seemed to suggest that Aermir was no longer viewed as a friendly presence but rather as a ghost. The warmth that had once characterized their interactions had given way to an inexplicable distance.

This change hadn't gone unnoticed by Aermir. The contrast between their past rapport and the current atmosphere left him puzzled, grappling with questions about what could have transpired to bring about such a transformation. As he quietly observed Rickon's movements leading him toward the crypt, the enigma deepened.

As Aermir ventured deeper into the crypts of Winterfell, the atmosphere underwent a gradual transformation. The corridors were lined with ancient stone statues, each representing generations of Stark ancestors. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the solemn faces of the statues, creating an eerie play of light and darkness. The air held a faint chill, a testament to the crypts' subterranean nature, yet it wasn't a discomforting cold. Instead, it seemed to cocoon the space in a peculiar embrace.

The crypts themselves were a maze of interconnected passages, with each turn leading to another chamber, each housing the remains of a long-departed Stark. The walls bore the weight of history, echoing with the whispers of the past. The quietness of the crypts held a unique reverence, a stillness that enveloped everything.

As Aermir continued his steps, he couldn't help but reflect on the contrast in his feelings compared to those of others who tread these same pathways with them. Jory and Theon, for instance, often felt skittish and uneasy in this underground realm. The crypts seemed to evoke a sense of unease in them, a feeling of being watched by the eyes of the stone statues.

However, for Aermir, the crypts held a different kind of welcome. Despite the slight chill in the air, he felt an odd warmth, an inexplicable sense of calling. The stoic statues that lined the corridors didn't unnerve him; instead, they seemed to silently acknowledge his presence as if the spirits of the past recognized him as who he was. The crypts were a place of solemn history, yet Aermir perceived them as a sanctuary where the legacy of House Stark resonated with him on a profound level. He also remembered the magic inside the collapsed parts of the crypts. After he was done with Rickon, he decided to investigate it again.

Turning a corner within the crypts, Aermir's journey brought him upon a scene that held both curiosity and intrigue. There stood Rickon, the youngest Stark, engaged in play with Shaggydog, his loyal direwolf. The child's imagination seemed ignited by an old sword he had discovered amidst the statues, his youthful spirit imbuing the crypts with a sense of life.

As Aermir approached, the keen senses of the direwolf detected his presence, prompting Shaggydog to alert Rickon. The child reacted swiftly, retreating to the cover of a nearby statue as wariness can be seen in his eyes.

Aermir stepped closer to Rickon, his movements careful and measured, as if treading on delicate ground. He aimed to bridge the growing gap that had emerged between them, his voice carrying a gentle tone as he addressed the young Stark.

"Rickon, may I have a word with you?"

Rickon's gaze flickered with a mixture of wariness and uncertainty, his demeanor a far cry from the openness they had once shared. A palpable coldness had settled where warmth and familiarity had once thrived. Aermir couldn't ignore the shift, and he wanted to understand it.

He continued, his voice soft yet inquisitive.

"I've noticed something different in the way we've been interacting lately. It's as if something has changed between us. Can you tell me what's on your mind?"

Rickon's response was marked by hesitation, his lips parting as if to speak but no words escaping. His reluctance to communicate was evident, and Aermir's concern deepened.

"Rickon, I want to help, but I can only do so if you let me in. Please, tell me what's bothering you," Aermir implored, his gaze holding a mixture of empathy and genuine care.

The child's apprehension reached its peak as Aermir's approach neared. A flicker of movement, a step backward, and it seemed Rickon was on the verge of running away. But Aermir's swiftness prevailed, his hand gently closing around Rickon's arm, not with force but with a gentle assurance.

"Wait, Rickon," Aermir urged softly, his grip light yet firm.

"I don't want to force you into anything. But I'm here to listen, to understand. Let's talk about whatever is bothering you."

Their gaze locked for a moment, a silent exchange between an elder figure and a young child. Aermir's expression held a mixture of patience and earnestness, his intention clear—to bridge the gap that had formed, to mend whatever had frayed their connection.

At that moment, the atmosphere shifted drastically. Shaggydog, fiercely protective of Rickon, perceived Aermir's actions as a threat and launched himself at the perceived adversary. Aermir's defenses were up; his body encased in the protective embrace of Rhovagon grēze—his Bark armor. The armor bore the evidence of its effectiveness, a faint hairline crack the only testament to the powerful jaw of the beast. The beast was really strong to be able to crack his shield in one bite.

Aermir reacted with lightning speed, employing his arsenal of buffs in a matter of seconds. Despite his considerable strength, the direwolf's bite held power beyond his physical prowess. Instinct guided his actions as he used the terrain to his advantage, crafting a small pit beneath the wolf's hind legs using earth magic to unbalance it. With its equilibrium disrupted, Aermir managed to hurl the beast away from his arm.

Addressing Rickon with urgency, Aermir instructed him to call his loyal companion back. However, the child's terror-fueled hesitation prevented him from asserting control over Shaggydog. In a tense turn of events, the direwolf lunged once more.

Drawing upon his magical abilities, he cast a spell of domination, compelling the direwolf to halt its assault. The exertion of control was enabled by the fact that Rickon himself was not currently warging into the beast. Aermir's spell took effect, forcing Shaggydog into submission.

If Rickon's consciousness had been intertwined with his direwolf's, Aermir's dominance over the animal might have been far more challenging—if not impossible—to achieve using the mere dominate animal spell. With the direwolf now under his magical command, a tense calm settled over the crypts. Now he could talk with Rickon.