A Joke
patreon
Game of Thrones: Reborn as Frey
🕑 Added 2021-10-16 13:24:05 +0000 UTCChapter 75: Negotiation Fatale
***
-Oliver (XV)-
Since the meeting with Ned Stark ended so predictably fast, I decided to go and do something else. Meet a certain young man. As I walked along Winterfell, one of my guards accompanied me constantly, always keeping guard. He was someone who had a certain blood ritual done on him, so he was stronger than the average man.
On the training ground, I saw a dark-haired young man with gray eyes shooting arrows at the dummy. His shooting was good, but not that good. He took too long on the draw. Still, though, he seemed to be around ten years old, so I couldn’t blame his skills here.
Smiling at him, I walked down and put my hand on his unsuspecting shoulder. “You shouldn’t think too much when you shoot,” he looked at me and I smiled offering him my hand. “Can I borrow your bow? I could teach you a couple of tricks.”
He nodded respectfully. “Yes, my lord.”
Did I look like a lord? Huh, I guess due to my clothes I probably did. Also with the added silver hair, I seemed more like a Targaryen too.
Picking up his bow, I tested its balance, and immediately my eyes sharpened. I hadn’t shot a bow in a long time, but I knew the chances of me missing were just as nonexistent as they were before.
I took out an arrow from the quiver on his back and shot without even needing to look any more than a glance. “Your enemy won’t stay still and wait until you have aimed,” Oa advised him and picked up another arrow and shot. This time I didn’t even look at the target, but due to exchanging views with my hawk, I knew that it had landed on the head of the straw target.
In less than seven seconds I shot almost ten arrows and each of them landed on the target’s head. “Don’t think too much in a fight, it only makes you complacent. By the way, my name is Oliver Redhawk.”
“I am… Jon… Jon Snow,” the young man answered hesitantly. I smiled at him and patted his back.
“Don’t worry, I have many bastard sisters and brothers, though father legitimized many of them. As many as he could. Some weren’t legitimized by the time he died,” I smiled at him reassuringly, “in my eyes, it doesn't matter if you are a bastard or not, family is still family,” getting closer I slowly whispered to him. “I used to be a bastard myself too.”
Jon smiled. “So, your father must be Arthur Redhawk, right?” his eyes seemed to shine at the mention of my ‘father’. I could see it in his gaze, the admiration. “They say that his duel against Arthur Dayne was legendary.”
“Well, I wasn’t there to see it. But father was quite the swordsman, though in the last days of his life he was riddled with sickness and could barely move,” I sighed. At the time that had been the aftereffect of using magic, a mistake that I won’t make a second time. Though even if I went back, it wouldn't change what I did at the time. Those were the best decisions possible for the situations I was in. “Do you need help with a sword? I am decent at that too.”
He nodded excitedly and we went to the training grounds, along the way we met Rodrik Cassel. “Lord Redhawk, do you need the training grounds for something?”
Though his face was stern, I knew he didn’t mean anything bad by it and I just nodded. “Ye, Ser Rodric, I would like to teach young Jon here some sword moves. After all, it's the least I could do for someone who admires my father.”
He nodded and smiled. “I remember the day your father fought against the Sword of the Morning. It was the best sword fight I ever saw in my life.”
I smile like a child should when they are proud of their father and we get on the ring. We were both using dull swords and Jon had a pathetic stance full of openings. But I didn’t mind that at all and I started teaching him.
***
Until the sun started setting, I helped Jon with his swordsmanship. Essentially I tried to teach him everything I knew and hoped that this would help him when he goes to the wall. Because I was counting on him to hold back those White Walkers until we were at least remotely ready to handle them.
By the time we finished the training, Jon was on the ground, breathing heavily. Rodric Cassel was outside, looking at me with a smile. “If I didn’t know any better I would think that you are trying to make Jon here the best swordsman in the kingdoms.”
As a master-at-arms, he could see that I was teaching Jon diligently and tried to impart onto him everything I knew. In the end, I would even leave Rodric Cassel with a training schedule for Jon before dinner time came around.
***
-Ned (III)-
As dinner came around, I didn’t have an appetite at all. I had heard that Oliver was training Jon all day long. Currently, I was sitting at the main table of the hall and waiting for the guest to arrive after he washed after training.
“You should have seen his moves, my lord, just like his father, that Redhawk swordsmanship was something almost otherworldly. Something almost impossible to learn unless someone was fighting for a big part of his life.” Rodric seemed to have been impressed by the young man and just how willing he had been to teach Jon.
“Damn, I wish I was there for that. Do you think Lord Redhawk will teach me too, father?” asked Rob, my firstborn son.
I smiled at him. “Why don’t you ask him yourself. I see no reason why he would refuse you.”
As soon as I finished saying that, Oliver came in and I had to admit he looked almost like royalty and I could hear Sansa whisper amongst her friends. Like all girls her age do, she most likely was enamored by such a handsome young man. Well, after she grew up a little more, a betrothal between the two of… oh, right. I almost forgot that Oliver was already married to a Dornish girl.
I could see Catelyn sending Jon a glare, but he was too happy while eating to notice such things. It seemed like the training had brightened his mood. This was something I should be thankful to him for, but I couldn’t help but deep in my heart question myself if Oliver had figured out Jon’s parentage.
“Lord Stark, Lady Stark,” he bowed towards us politely and sat down. “The hot springs here were good. Never thought there would be such a special place here in the winter.”
He was good with his words. Better than his father had ever been. “I am glad you liked them, though you can call me Ned,” I smiled at him, “after all, those titles before our names shouldn’t be something that we care about.”
He sat opposite of us and nodded. “You can call me Oliver too. I think that the relationship between our families should remain good. But we will have these negotiations for later.”
True, Maester Luwin had explained Oliver's strategy and it was quite good, it would bring the North a lot of riches and even create a direct trade route with Braavos. The Redhawk family had some connection with Braavos and the Iron Bank. Even during Arthur’s time that was obvious. Though I had no idea what their relationship was, it seemed like a cooperative one.
I silently went to my food and tried to think of an apology. After all, walking out before as he had tried to negotiate such a good deal for the North wasn’t something I wanted to break the good relationship between our houses.
“Also it was a pleasure training someone like Jon, he is good with the sword. How about your other son? I could try teaching him too. If you would allow it of course,” with just a couple of words he changed the conversation and tried to turn it in a helping direction even for us.
As soon as the conversation turned towards Jon, and how good he was with a sword, Catelyn interfered and said. “How is your wife? Arianne Martel is known as the flower of Dorne.”
Oliver nodded. “She was supposed to come with me as she had never visited the North before. But we recently got the news that she was pregnant so we had to change our plans.”
“Oh, you have my best wishes then, what do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?” Asked Catelyn, trying to make a friendly conversation.
“Well, in all honesty, I want my first child to be a girl. Arianne wants a boy. She is worried too much about making an heir to the Redhawk family. But I am not so worried, daughters are nicer to their parents and not as reckless as boys. She could help her younger brothers. Also, daughters are gentler,” Oliver had a happy smile on his face as he said that. It seemed that, unlike some Lords, he wasn’t overly obsessed with having an heir. “I understand that family is everything. That was the first thing our father taught me and my siblings. Though not many know, I used to actually be a bastard that was later legitimized.”
My wife’s happy gaze immediately turned cold once she heard that. “And you are now leading your family?”
This was the thing that she was worried about happening with Jon too. He would take Rob’s place and become the head of House Stark. Her misguided belief on bastards being children of sin was clouding her mind. The good impression she had of Oliver before had now turned into a cold gaze that would freeze worse than any winter in the North.
“Yes, after, my older brother died. I was the one in line." Oliver smiles gently.
Catelyn wasn't pleased by that at all. "Well, that seems… convenient."
Immediately Oliver's gaze went from cheerful to cold. "What are you suggesting here, Lady Stark?"
The once happy atmosphere on the table turned frosty…
***
A/N: Catelyn doesn't like bastards. That was clear in the show, and even more in the books. Also she can be quite reckless with her words sometimes.
