Chapter 135: Wedding Gifts (I)

POV: Domeric Bolton

Festive pavilions, northwest side a quarter mile from the walls of Barrowton.

About two hours after a ceremony took place...

Northern tradition required the husband to carry the bride to the wedding banquet table. Obviously, this was not within the possibilities of Jorah Mormont since the couple, wanting to bestow honours and festivities on all the thousands of guests, could not set up the banquet inside Barrow Hall.

Therefore, hundreds of pavilions, party tents and endless tables were set up just outside the walls, while hundreds of carriages escorted guests to their seats in every comfort and pomp required.

The cooks' area and serving staff alone numbered more than a thousand servants.

The Lady and the new Lord of Barrowton had ensured that the town with all its inhabitants could also celebrate the wedding. Hundreds of kegs of ale, wine, carts with delicacies, bards and entertainers from the people ran all over the main street to lavish festivity and entertainment on all the inhabitants.

In addition to the Mormont-Dustin soldiers, jugglers, fire-eaters, dancers, jesters, puppeteers, rare beast trainers, merchants, and residents of Barrowton itself, the Northeast area behind the walls numbered more than ten thousand people... an army.

And Domeric was there together with his mother and his new family at the main table that included every member of House Mormont, Ryswell and Bolton.

Not to offend the Royal Family nor the Protectors of the North, for all members of House Baratheon, Lannister and Stark, two equally lavish curved tables followed in the second row joining the main table forming an open arch in the centre in the shape of a horseshoe.

Guests from the east, deemed by his aunt as 'unofficially more important than the King himself' followed immediately behind House Stark. The notorious sorcerers of Carcosa...

Domeric's gaze slid a second time to his betrothed Sansa.

The little girl, not even four years old, was pretty and sunny.

Sansa would undoubtedly become a beautiful woman, but she still remained a child... And no sparks of affection would ever erupt between the two before another ten or twelve years.

Domeric's glance attempted to head far beyond the first three tables... But unfortunately, the boy could not find her and sighed with a hint of sadness.

During the ceremony, the Lord of Dreadfort had noticed the exchange of amorous glances between Duncan and Dacey (although his friend's gaze seemed a little too maniacal, in his opinion), and he was happy for them. But Duncan certainly would not have been happy about his exchange of glances with the figure next to him, his sister Eddara...

No one seemed to notice them, except for that strange old merchant with the piercing gaze whose name or origin Domeric did not know.

There were several bizarre figures in this marriage...

The night before, he and Eddara, after they freed themselves from the agreed-upon courtesy dances, danced under the notes of the famous The Song of Beal the Bard.

It was a magical moment: neither of them uttered a word for the entire song duration. Instead, it was the dance and the music that communicated...

Every glance, caress between their hands, steps, and elegant turns communicated more than a hundred poems and stories written between their letters...

The second of the seven courses was served. The waiter served Domeric a pigeon and broad bean roll gratinated in almonds, turmeric, and mint leaves and poured an oily, dark, fragrant sauce on the side of the plate. There was no shortage of appetite, so the boy did not make compliments and tasted the dish...

It was delicious... Crunchiness, softness, cooking, and freshness were mingled suavely in a balanced riot of flavours. Only after tasting did Domeric notice that at the heart of each roll was a little treasure chest of cheese and spicy bell pepper sauce.

All the porcelain plates, silver and glass bowls, and cutlery were engraved with the coat of arms of House Mormont.

The second course had undoubtedly surpassed the first entrée-and knowing Auntie, that was intentional.

In all likelihood, each successive course would overpower the previous one, thus igniting the curiosity, surprise and appetite of every guest. All the while, the alcohol and drinks were flowing.

Dark or light beer, mead, Dorne wine, Arbor wine, Summer wine, juices of every kind, Northern drinks of every kind of strength, one was spoiled for choice.

The King was already drunk and trying by some devious means to get away from the boring family table. Probably Robert wanted to join tables of knights and lesser nobles who were allowed to escape the rigid etiquette that the role of Father of the Kingdom prevented him from giving vent to his true nature.

As soon as the third course began to be served, the ceremonial Chief Herald positioned himself in the centre of the open space of the three main tables to loudly announce:

"My King and Queen, my Lords and Ladies, and all of you noble gentlemens of the East, the bride and groom are ready to receive all of your highly appreciated wedding gifts." Several other servants repeated the message at various key points around the tables. Multiple cries of jubilation and surprise spread throughout the area.

"Your Majesties, would you gladden these celebrations by granting House Mormont the honour of opening the gift ceremony first?" asked Barrowton's chief herald.

Robert tried to stand up but staggered slightly; the Queen took over as representative of the Crown with joy.

Cersei Lannister was escorted by her twin and Ser Boros, along with a pair of royal valets carrying a chest.

"Lord and Lady Mormont." The Queen had the right not to bow and took full advantage of that privilege...

"My Queen." Replied the newlyweds in unison.

"Truly a lovely and 'majestic' ceremony, Lady Barbrey. My compliments are due," the Queen.

"You honour me and my groom, my Queen." Replied his Aunt kindly.

"The wedding dress, the ceremony, the stage effects, and that Crown… truly a lovely jewel. Perhaps, your nickname 'Frosty Spice Queen' that one hears so much about even in the court of King's Landing comes from that fantastic jewel...

Don't you think, Lady Barbrey?" Poked Cersei in a more pronounced tone.

"Oh, you mean my beloved Jorah's token of love, my Queen?

Well, indeed, it cannot be said that her Majesty may be in the wrong. Unfortunately, I could not answer you frankly. 'Frosty Spice Queen' is certainly not a moniker intended by me.

I really have no idea who started the rumours, Mh! Mh! Mh!

… However, yes. This is, in fact, a jewel created for a queen. The Queen of Love and Beauty, to be exact.

My valiant knight gave me a simple tournament prize after winning the joust in Torrhen's Square." Barbrey turned to Jorah, kissing his hand.

"Do you remember, my beloved? Your first gesture of declaration? Already four years have passed since that happy day..." Uncle Jorah returned the kiss, choosing loving silences and smiles as his response.

The Queen's smile faded for a moment replacing it with an expression of rancour, but Cersei returned to a smile a moment later and said:

"But where are my manners? I had come here to bestow on your gifts of thanks and felicitations... the chest." The Queen commanded and the valets to place the chest in front of her.

"To thank you noble, loyal subjects of the Crown, the Royal Family is pleased to bestow upon you hope...

Hope that the Seven will bless you soon with an heir of Mormont and Ryswell blood..." The valets opened the chest and displayed the contents.

"Our Grand Maester Pycelle has lavished all his knowledge, expertise and field research in such a way as to ensure that you, my Lord and Lady, have a more concrete chance of conceiving the joy of a new life...

Herbs, potions, state-of-the-art tools for conception and the best rare texts from the citadel and all the Known World." Domeric tightened his grip on the silver chalice, suppressing his anger and outrage at what he had just witnessed.

Those were not gifts... they were insults disguised as gifts.

It was an unspoken but common knowledge rumour that both spouses were of dubious fertility...

The slightly amused smile of the Lioness was proof that the insult was premeditated.

Domeric heard the teeth of her mother, Bethany, Barbrey's sister, grinding with disdain. His mother was always telling him that he should behave more like a son than a nephew in front of his Aunt because, in all likelihood, the Old Gods would never bless with a child...

Lady Mormont stood up, and Domeric feared for the worst. His Uncle Jorah held her hand, probably to try to calm her down, but to his surprise, the wrathful and vengeful Lady Barbrey replied with a:

"Thank you, Your Grace, for your welcome gift. My Jorah and I will make many attempts to make such a miracle happen, and...fear not, my Queen, I assure you that during each and every act, our thoughts will always fall upon you."

"Pff... Cough...coff..." Both Domeric, his mother and a couple of other members of House Ryswell choked, holding back a laugh. A couple of Dacey's sisters gave free rein to their laughter, earning a slap on the back of the head each from their mother, who, under what appeared to be a scolding of disdain, there too lurked approval from the sneering She-Bear.

The Queen's face turned purple from the concealed insult. His Aunt pressed her mercilessly.

"My lord and I tonight will loudly call upon the Old Gods to bless us with a child... And to reciprocate your much-appreciated gesture, Your Grace, we will shout the name 'Cersei'... that is, the name we will give our first daughter if the Gods ever wish us." This time Barbrey Mormont's tone openly sinned in mockery.

"Pfff...ahahaha...cough..." The Queen also cast a dirty look at Domeric and his mother. Almost every member of the table and other noble guests in an ear-splitting line laughed.

"How dare you-" the Lioness' roar was interrupted by a voice behind her back.

"LADY BARBREY... Lord Jorah, forgive me, my ladies and lords, if I interrupt this pleasant exchange of innocent joviality.

Her Majesty the Queen, my beloved sister, has not noticed that a procession of her loyal subjects is eagerly awaiting their turn to pay homage to you..." It was the imp, Tyrion Lannister.

The dwarf exchanged a look of alarm at his brother, Jaime Lannister, who firmly grasped the twin's arm to prevent her from aggravating the attention any further.

"I would like to take this opportunity to present to you, noble spouses, the gifts of House Lannister." The dwarf stepped forward, taking the podium and his Aunt's attention.

"Lord Tyrion ... My husband and I will be honoured to accept the noble gifts offered by none other than the newly promising Shield of Lannisport."

End POV.

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POV: A Book Collector

Festive Pavilions, Northwest side a quarter mile from the walls of Barrowton.

About two seconds after, a Queen retreated...

'That idiot has no idea who she is provoking...' Thought the new Governor of Lannisport, hoping that the crack on the eggshell was not so extensive as to cook up a nice omelette.

Out of the gods' goodness, his father permitted him to interrupt this madness.

Even Tywin Lannister seemed to dislike the tasteless gift personally chosen by their dear and loving Queen. Casterly Rock, Lannisport, and the entire West could not afford to offend the North.

Cersei was probably not even aware that it was House Stark that provided the gold to stem the Crown's severe deficit. And now that House Lannister's expenses were touching heights not seen since Aegon the Conqueror, even the wealthy Lions of Casterly Rock could not give up their excellent trade relations with the North...

Relationships on which, for the past five years, their Uncle Gerion devoted body and soul so that they would be as firm and lasting as possible.

Tallharts, Starks, and Mormonts were now the three key lineages to access all the benefits of the North. And his sister wanted to openly insult the latter! Madness!

Duncan had even confirmed his suspicions by warning him directly...

["How can Lannisport increase trade with the North? Simple, my lord, all it takes is good relations with Waterdeep and Barrowton. Your uncle and father have already created the former. It will be up to you to get the latter. And if you wish to increase the latter ... you need only pay homage and tokens of friendship to the undisputed Sovereign of the Barrowlands."]

The first two gifts were placed to the respective interested parties. They were a solid book of excellent workmanship and a closed wooden jewellery box of equally fine workmanship.

"Lord Jorah, with the best wishes and felicitations of my uncle Gerion and House Lannister, I present to you this volume...

You are reading story Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods at novel35.com

{The First Kings} the first edition written by Maester Volarik and edited by myself.

In this text, my lord, are gathered all the most established information, from all the library sources in Westeros from which Casterly Rock has been able to draw, concerning the histories, folk cultures and customs of the Barrowlands, from the time of the Legendary Barrow Kings to the latest exploits of the noble descendant House, House Dustin.

A gift that I hope will help you cement your new rule over these fascinating lands rich in history and tradition, new Lord of Barrowton." Tyrion bowed his head, waiting for the response.

"A wonderful gift, beneficial, and one of a kind. I will treasure it, my lord. I thank you.

I renew the promises made to your uncle at Bear Island, extending them to you, Lord Tyrion. House Lannister will always be welcome in all the lands under the protection of House Mormont." Glance and voice seemed sincere and devoid of irony. Even Lady Barbrey's eyes shone with welcome surprise and appreciation.

'A good start...' Tyrion's mind exhumed in a flash Bloody Snow's second valuable piece of advice.

["The Frosty Spice Queen? And how can a poor bachelor dwarf plagued by defeat attempt to curry favour with such a lady?"

"If I were in that dwarf's shoes, I would begin by praising the feelings of joy and love that peculiar pretty pendant of the lady mentioned above brings you with a single glance."]

"And, hoping not to offend the Lord Bear, two gifts for the lovely Maiden Fair of the North...

Oh, forgive me, my lady-I-I had not noticed." Tyrion became spellbound with his eyes fixed on Valyria's heart-shaped steel pendant.

"Is there a problem, my lord Tyrion?" The lady asked in a slightly annoyed tone. Indeed, the position of the pendant was somewhat equivocal, and the gesture could be interpreted as 'highly rude and inappropriate.

"No… in truth, yes, milady, I apologize for any misunderstanding.

I was admiring your beautiful pendant. May I dare to ask your ladyship if the metal is as I assume it to be Valyrian Steel?" Tyrion asked politely.

Barbrey scrutinized him carefully with a piercing and invasive gaze, but then the lady relaxed and answered:

"It is, milord. A token of my husband's love designed in his own hand and forged by a jeweller of Qohor... May I ask why so much interest?" Barbrey.

"Behold, milady, House Lannister is ashamed and apologizes to you for bringing you such an ephemeral, counterfeit and meaningless first gift.

I fear, my lady, that said necklace will never have the honour of resting around your neck, not with a competitor so rich in uniqueness, love, personality and feeling at the very least..." Tyrion opened the box showing the necklace his father commissioned from the finest jeweller in Lannisport two moons ago...

The dwarf began to suspect that this whole scene had been strategically premeditated and orchestrated by Bloody Snow and The Old Lion...

The gold-spun necklace, plated with colours of the coats of arms of House Mormont and Dustin, was united with a pendant jewel, a large dark green emerald cut out in an oval shape with a small yellow diamond heart in the centre, finely carved and set. The two stones were crowned by a bear and a knight maiden wielding an axe. A masterpiece of goldsmithing and gem art.

Nineteen thousand three hundred and ten gold dragons of commission rounded up to twenty thousand to reward excellent workmanship and work done ahead of schedule.

Jorah Mormont frowned in embarrassment and resignation; Lady Barbrey, on the other hand, held a steady, detached gaze but betrayed by a tiny glint of desire in her eyes.

Now that Tyrion could admire the lady's crown up close, he noticed a certain harmony between the two jewels, as if one was created to support the other in a single set of jewels.

"I must offer my deepest apologies to you as well, my lord Jorah. I can assure you that this gift was not meant to cause you offence. It was a mere unintentional failing on the part of my Household for failing to obtain the information we needed to prevent such an affront.

It will be my concern and the endeavour of the Lord Protector of the West to rectify such disrespect as soon as possible." Tyrion closed the case and slowly withdrew the box until...

"No-no, milord, please. No offence has been done to me. On the contrary, a mere coincidence has unjustly defamed your beautiful gift for my bride.

What do you think, my beloved?" The last word belonged to the interested party...

"My Lord husband is right, Lord Tyrion-no offence has been caused. Although, as you say, I could not wear such a gift,... in any case, it may well adorn my private chambers constantly reminding me of the pledge of sincere friendship and thoughtfulness that your noble Household has shown to ours.

So ... stop your hand, my good friend Lannister."

Barbrey extended her hand and dragged the rich casket toward her with grace and dignity.

"The courtesy and magnanimity of House Mormont are unparalleled, my lord and lady. The honour of the privilege of such friendship belongs to House Lannister alone." Tyrion bowed for the umpteenth time, preparing himself for the final act.

"But in any case, I had mentioned two gifts, milady... Allow a humble and unoriginal book-loving dwarf to spread a semblance of symbolic balm on this grievous wound that your lordships have nobly chosen to conceal..." A second tome, prized but significantly more worn than the first, was carefully placed on the table by one of the two Lannister servants.

"Again, a book, my lady, which, though not edited by yours truly, is equally rare.

Nowadays, almost everyone gives credit for the golden age of the Seven Kingdoms solely to the wisdom of Jaehaerys, the Conciliator, but very few know the story of the most extraordinary advisory member of the King Council.

One of the few texts that survived the great burning of Baelor the Blessed, fortuitously found four years ago by an attendant of Dragonstone:

{History of the Good Queen Alysanne}, written and edited by Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen, the most brilliant mind among the sons of Jaehaerys and Alysanne Targaryen.

This, milady, is supposed to be the first copy Vaegon gave to her mother shortly before she died. The signed personal dedication on the first introductory page, which also bears the Archmaester's personal seal, is proof of this..." The last tear of blood from the heart of an avid collector was shed...

It was his Uncle who 'suggested' that gift... Unfortunately, the Lannister spies could not bring back a piece of relevant information from the North, but "as it happens," a lofty song by a poor Lady admirer of Alysanne Targaryen reached Gerion's ears.

"A coveted text among many collectors containing all the testimonies of Barth, King Jaehaerys, Alysanne, her son Vaegon himself, and all her most trusted ladies-in-waiting regarding the exploits, achievements, thoughts and opinions of the greatest Queen Westeros has ever known.

A book that every lady or queen should be able to read, in my humble opinion.

I hope you can find points of inspiration and glimmers of wisdom from this humble gift, Lady Mormont." Finally, the exorbitant wager was wagered, and the last dice rolled...

The woman who had publicly slapped and trapped the Queen Lioness twice in a row and in only three days took a great moment of reflection before passing her judgment.

[I know Lady Barbrey... Trust me, Tyrion. If you elegantly sing the right song paying the proper homage to the sovereign, at the very least, Lannisport will benefit tenfold ... Bloody Snow's word].

'The library and the future businesses of Lannisport are banking on you, boy.' Tyrion waited ... and the response came.

"I have only had a chance to read a fraction of a few corroded and poorly guarded pages of the writing of {History of the Good Queen Alysanne}...

Your gift, milord, compels a humble lady lover and book collector like myself to reciprocate that favour with an equally rare text.

If the libraries of Casterly Rock or Lannisport lack a copy, it will be my care and pleasure to procure one for you, Lord Tyrion." So replied the Trade Queen to the great relief of the ruler of a city in search of quick cash.

"It would be unseemly for me to accept such a kindness, 'But' equally rude of me to refuse such a gesture of friendship... Could I quench my unquenchable thirst for knowledge and curiosity by asking milady what text it is?" inquired the greedy Lord of hypocrites.

"Step closer, milord," Barbrey wanted to whisper the title? Tyrion humoured him...

"{Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History} by Septon Barth."

The Storm God unleashed his full fury, and the King of Lightning struck down a lion imp who sinned through curiosity and greed...

A chill burst to Tyrion Lannister's joints, legs, arms and everything else in his body.

Breath missed, and the sound of the accelerated beat rumbled over the eardrums, completely embalming the amateur collector who foolishly believed he was a giant in the field... before that title was uttered.

'D-Dra- Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History?!!! May the Seven electrocute me!'

That work was an artefact beyond legend!

In the past five years, Tyrion had squandered countless amounts of his allowance to get his hands on that text. One of the most sought-after and impossible-to-obtain texts in all of Westeros and Essos!!!

At the age of seven, his Uncle Tygett asked him what he wished for his eighth name day; Tyrion replied, 'a Dragon.'

Years later, after facing the hard truth about the extinction of dragons, a more mature, educated and hopeful Tyrion again answered his Uncle's question with:

[Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History, by Septon Barth!]

His passion and love for dragons made that work undoubtedly Tyrion's most coveted book.

After months of waiting, Uncle Tygett returned defeated by his nephew, sentencing one sentence:

["That goddamn book is Unobtainable."].

Why was that book unobtainable?

Tyrion squandered hundreds of gold dragons only to learn that all copies were promptly destroyed and banned by the maesters during the reign of Aegon III and Baelor the Blessed.

The Citadel had condemned Barth's book as 'provocative and unfounded.'

Who was Septon Barth to have caused such an uproar?

Historians considered Barth to be King Jaehaerys I Targaryen's greatest friend, a man of humble origins among the most brilliant and outspoken. Archmaester Gyldayn described him as 'the wisest man who ever served as Hand of the King'.

However, Barth's enemies claimed that he was more of a sorcerer than Septon, and he still holds the record as the individual with the most enduring tenure as Hand of The King.

Forty-one years of rule alongside the best King and Queen the Seven Kingdoms had ever known at a time when the Targaryens were in the process of recreating a second Valyria...

Even King Aegon V 'The Unlikely,' whose obsession with the return of the Dragons doomed him to death in the Summerhall disaster, had desperately sought a copy of that text, failing miserably in the attempt...

Why was the King of the Seven Kingdoms desperately seeking that book?

Because in all likelihood, in the midst of those legendary pages, there might have been the secret to hatching the darned Dragon Eggs!

As well as bearing the testimony of the only known traveller who had returned to Valyria riding Balerion, Aerea Targaryen!

In six years of assiduous and exhaustive searching, Tyrion obtained only a whisper, 'nothing but a whisper,' about the possible existence of a copy in the forbidden section of the Archmaesters' tower.

And Barbrey proposed the offer just as if a pair of bored ladies were exchanging romance novels...

'She is not lying... She does indeed possess a copy.

In the name of the Seven Hells...

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU REALLY, BARBREY MORMONT??!'

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End Part I

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