63 Chapter 62- A Farewell to the Vale
124 AC
The third day of the eleventh moon
Ulf Pov
I had managed to slip into my attire with remarkable speed, all the while Marilda's eyes bore into me with a laser-like focus, as if she could undress me with her mind alone. I couldn't help but chuckle at her evident frustration, and it was becoming abundantly clear that our morning "session" hadn't entirely sated her desires.
I grinned mischievously and teased, "You know, Marilda, as much as I appreciate your adoration, we do have to get going. It's time for breakfast, and I have to ensure that our dear friend Hugh hasn't been engaging in any... diplomatic relations with noble ladies." I couldn't help but snicker at my own joke, secretly hoping it wasn't true. I'd witnessed the way the ladies of Dragonstone and the Vale looked at him.
Indeed, the contrast between Hugh and me couldn't have been more striking. He was a living embodiment of Robert Baratheon, reveling in his passionate pursuits with a lustful enthusiasm that was impossible to ignore. His charisma and charm could turn even the most reserved of noble ladies into willing conspirators in his adventures.
In contrast, I often found myself embodying the essence of Eddard Stark – steadfast, honorable, and cautious in my approach to life. While Hugh chased pleasure and excitement, I tended to tread carefully, considering the consequences of our actions and striving to uphold our moral code, even in the most tempting of circumstances.
As I prepared to leave the room, Marilda couldn't resist one last playful move. She gave my behind a cheeky smack, accompanied by a devilish smirk that left little to the imagination.
As I made my way into the grand hall, it was a sight to behold. The various nobles who had gathered there bore the unmistakable marks of a night filled with revelry, and more than a few of them appeared to be nursing their own hangovers. It was a sea of disheveled hair, bleary eyes, and whispered conversations about the previous night's escapades.
In the distance, I spotted the familiar figures of Harlon, Mushroom, and Addam, and I made my way over to join them. Mushroom, ever the jester, couldn't resist a quip.
"Ahh, the man of the hour has arrived," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
I grinned and replied, "Aye, I have indeed."
Mushroom couldn't help but comment, "I believe you should indulge in such revelry more often, Ulf. You're an entirely different person when you do."
I winced at his words as my head began to throb again. Hangovers were not my strong suit.
Harlon chimed in with a sly grin, "Royce looks like he wants to throw you from the moon door itself."
Mushroom chuckled again, adding to my discomfort.
"I will try my best to stop him and protect you, Ser Ulf," came the reassuring voice of my loyal squire, Addam, as he rushed to my defense.
"I'm sure you will, Addam," I said with a pat on the young boy's head.
The question that nagged at me, though, was the whereabouts of our wayward friend, Hugh.
"Where is Hugh?" I asked, concerned.
"I saw him departing with a lady of House Waynwood," Addam replied casually.
His words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I spat out my drink in shock.
"What?!" I exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of the entire hall. I quickly composed myself and sank back into my seat. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath.
Mushroom let out a dramatic groan, his reluctance evident, but he didn't hesitate for long. With a resigned sigh, he got up from his seat.
As we anxiously made our way to Hugh's chamber, my worry was rapidly escalating. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on my mind, and I couldn't help but fear the impending storm of consequences.
Reaching Hugh's door, I rapped loudly, but there was no response. Frustration and anxiety mounting, I resorted to kicking the door open, revealing the scene within. There lay Hugh, nestled under the sheets, with none other than Lady Waynwood herself by his side.
The lady, upon seeing me, turned a shade of crimson that could rival the Lannister banner, and Hugh greeted me with a devilish smirk. My immediate impulse was to smack some sense into him, but I refrained.
Mushroom and I tactfully exited the room, giving the lady and Hugh some semblance of privacy. After a few awkward minutes, Lady Waynwood made her hasty exit, her face still a vivid shade of red. It was then that I dared to enter the room, only to find that Hugh had at least started dressing.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I couldn't help but exclaim.
Hugh gave me an entirely deadpan look that sent shivers down my spine. "Ulf, are we not knights? Do we not have oaths to protect women from harm?" he asked, adopting an infuriatingly righteous tone.
I had a sinking feeling about where this was headed.
"I did my duty as a knight, Ulf," he continued, his voice oozing with a self-righteousness that made me want to throttle him. "The lady told me her tragic tale, about her husband's death at the hands of the mountain clans, and her loneliness. As a true knight, I provided her with the solace she sought."
"Fucking hells, Hugh! We took oaths to protect women from harm, not bed them!" I retorted, my exasperation palpable.
Mushroom, the ever-observant dwarf, chimed in with his cheeky commentary. "You know, Ulf, it's quite hypocritical of you. You don't seem to mind when it's Marilda, but suddenly, when Hugh decides to get friendly with a noble lady, you're up in arms."
Hugh, finding this all highly entertaining, couldn't contain his amusement. "That's right, Ulf! I always knew you had it in you," he said, referring to my own romantic exploits, while my head was spinning at how quickly Mushroom had deduced what had happened between me and Marilda.
"Ah, there's more to the story," Hugh announced with a sly grin.
Mushroom, never one to pass up a juicy tale, leaned in with curiosity. "Do tell," he urged.
With an exaggerated air of importance, Hugh dramatically placed his hand on my shoulder and began his tale. "Well," he began, "it's all thanks to my dear friend Ulf."
I braced myself for whatever ridiculous twist this story was about to take.
"Back on Dragonstone," Hugh continued, "while Ulf was diligently teaching me about the Seven Kingdoms, I learned about the various types of women residing in each of them. And then, it struck me like a bolt of inspiration – I must bed women from all the Seven Kingdoms!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I felt an overwhelming urge to bang my head against the nearest door. It was as if my noble efforts to educate Hugh about the intricacies of Westerosi culture had backfired in the most absurd way possible.
Mushroom couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching his sides. "Well, Ulf, it seems you've inadvertently unleashed a relentless quest of lust upon the Seven Kingdoms."
Hugh, clearly delighted by the whole situation, chimed in, "Indeed! Thanks to Ulf's teachings, I will be the first knight in the history of the seven kingdoms to fuck a woman from each of the seven kingdoms".
I couldn't decide whether to be proud or mortified. It was becoming increasingly clear that my role as a mentor had taken an unexpected and hilariously bizarre turn, turning Hugh into an unintentional and absurd champion of lust across the realm.
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"So the only potential troublemakers left in the Vale are the Gilded Falcon, nursing his wounds in Braavos, and the son of Arnold," I stated, my tone laced with concern, and Jeyne nodded in agreement.
"I still believe you should keep Eldric, Arnold's son, as your ward instead of handing him over to the Royces," I insisted, my suspicions about the boy and his family lingering.
Jeyne, attempting to soothe my apprehensions, replied, "Eldric is just a child, Ulf, and I trust the Royces to be honorable. I don't anticipate any rebellion from them."
"But, Jeyne, Eldric won't remain a child for long, and when you least expect it, he might turn against us," I warned, my doubts about the boy's loyalty firmly entrenched.
Jeyne seemed to grow impatient with my concerns. "Enough with these worries about the future, Ulf. In the present, everything is peaceful. All the lords will follow my lead, and the Gilded Falcon is busy in Braavos, lamenting the loss of his wealth. There are no immediate threats," she declared, her eyes fixed on me.
"Very well," I said with a resigned sigh, reclining back in my chair.
Jeyne regarded me curiously. "Where will you go now?" she inquired, concern etching her features.
"Kicking me out already?" I responded, feigning hurt, and Jeyne's expression immediately softened. She playfully punched my shoulder.
"I didn't mean it that way, and you know it," she said with a gentle smile, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"The North," I replied, and Jeyne nodded in understanding.
The words of the greenseer echoed in my mind. He had urged me to go where winter fell, which was undoubtedly the seat of House Stark.
"I have a gift for you," Jeyne announced, and my eyes lit up with curiosity.
She summoned her servants, who entered the room bearing the presents she had prepared. The first gift she handed me was a sword with a falcon-shaped pommel, a double-edged bastard sword of impeccable craftsmanship. As I marveled at the weapon, she proudly explained, "This was forged by one of the finest blacksmiths in the Vale."
I ran my fingers along the blade, feeling its perfect balance and sharp edge. It was a remarkable piece of artistry, a testament to the skill of the Vale's craftsmen.
Next, my eyes fell upon a set of gleaming armor, pure white and adorned with a majestic falcon emblem on the shoulder plate. I couldn't help but whistle in amazement. "This is incredible," I exclaimed.
"This is to remind everyone that you are and forever will be a friend of the Vale," Jeyne declared with pride.
And finally, she presented me with a magnificent saddle for Vedros, my loyal horse. The saddle was a work of art, sleek and elegantly designed to complement my steed perfectly. It gleamed with craftsmanship and attention to detail, a symbol of our lasting alliance.
Overwhelmed by her generosity, I wrapped my arms around Jeyne and gave her a heartfelt hug. She reciprocated the embrace, sealing our friendship with a gesture that spoke volumes about the bond between us. The gifts were not just material possessions; they were symbols of trust, loyalty, and the enduring connection between the Vale and myself.
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The twelfth day of the eleventh moon
The city of Gulltown sprawled before us as the Lady of the Vale arrived, ready to embark on our journey to White Harbor in the North. I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia as I gazed upon the familiar city.
"It seems like it has been ages since we last came here," I remarked, taking in the view of Gulltown.
As we made our way into the city, the people lined the streets, their voices raised in song, singing praises for the Maiden of the Vale and the White Knight. The warm reception was a testament to the respect and admiration the people held for Jeyne and me.
Lord Grafton himself came forward to greet us, and with his guidance, we found ourselves at a magnificent manse nestled within the city. The estate was sprawling, a testament to the wealth and influence of House Grafton, and it promised a comfortable stay during our time in Gulltown.
A grand feast was held in our honor, and the city of Gulltown seemed to come alive with excitement. Tables laden with sumptuous dishes were spread out in a magnificent hall, and the air was filled with the tantalizing aromas of roast meats, freshly baked bread, and an array of delectable desserts. The finest wines from the Vale were uncorked, and goblets were filled to the brim.
As the night progressed, the festivities continued to delight and entertain. The music played by skilled musicians echoed through the hall, drawing people to the dance floor. Nobles and commoners alike swayed to the rhythm of lively tunes, their laughter and merriment filling the air.
Yet, amid all the revelry, there was one song that stood out, capturing the hearts of all who heard it. It was the ballad of the Knight and the Maiden, a tale of chivalry, honor.
It was truly surreal to hear the people themselves singing a song about me, and I couldn't help but feel a flush of embarrassment. Marilda, of course, seized the opportunity to tease me mercilessly, and her mischievous laughter filled the air.
As the couples around us began to dance, I took Marilda's hand in mine, our fingers entwined, and we started to sway gently to the music. It was a moment of serenity amidst the lively celebration, and as we danced, I couldn't help but lose myself in Marilda's eyes. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in our own private dance.
"Tonight is our last night together," I whispered softly to Marilda, a note of sadness tinging my voice. She had to return to Driftmark to attend to her business, and the prospect of parting weighed heavily on both of us.
But Marilda, always one to dispel gloom, suddenly pinched my back and said, "No need to feel so sad."
I arched an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who said I was sad?" I replied with a sly grin.
Upon hearing my response, Marilda's expression shifted into a mischievous gaze. "Well," she began, her voice laced with seduction, "I had plans to make tonight unforgettable. We haven't had the chance since leaving the Eyrie, but now, it seems I'm not in the mood."
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. "Who knows when we'll meet again," I murmured seductively, my hand moving lower, tracing the curve of her backside and gently squeezing as she moaned softly.
Marilda, her olive green eyes locked onto mine, retorted with a smirk, "You are a terrible man."
With a shared understanding, we discreetly left the bustling halls and retreated to my room.
As we began to undress each other, the room seemed to grow hotter, the anticipation coursing through our bodies like a wildfire. Each layer of clothing that fell to the floor revealed more of our longing, a hunger that had been building for far too long.
Our hands explored, fingers tracing the contours of desire, and with every touch, the intensity of our passion grew. There was an urgency in our movements, an understanding that time was slipping away, and we needed to make the most of every precious moment.
Throughout the night, we made love with a fervor that left us breathless. Our bodies entwined in a dance of desire, and we surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of our hearts. We moved from one position to another, each more exhilarating than the last, our bodies seeking ecstasy in the heat of the moment.
There was no room for sadness, only the overwhelming pleasure of being together, of losing ourselves in each other's embrace. And as the night wore on, our cries of passion filled the room, a testament to the depths of our desire.
In the early hours of the morning, as the first light of dawn painted the sky, we clung to each other, reluctant to part. We knew that this night had been a bittersweet farewell, a memory that would sustain us until the day we could meet again.
