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- Posted: Thu, 23 Aug 2012 16:21:14 +0000
- xxxxxxxxx◦ "Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away, WHERE INNOCENCE IS BURNED... IN FLAMES.
xxxxxxxxxx A million miles from home, I'm walking ahead. » I'm frozen to the bones, (I AM)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx☆ : A soldier on my own, I don't know the way. I'm riding up the heights... OF SHAME.
xxxxxxxxxx I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest. » I'm ready for the fight... and fate." ◦
- The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky. Gone was the night and Dacey Mormont took a deep breath of the morning air. It smelled like the last remains of summer, crisp and fresh before the oncoming winter destroyed everything. While the North was almost always covered in a layer of frost, the South would be brutalized by the change of the seasons. Not that she should care… Dacey had never been one of those girls that liked to pick flowers or sit outside and cross stitch. No, her childhood days had been spent riding through the forests of Bear Island, hunting and racing with her cousin and sisters.
But there would be time to reminisce later. She could see the Lannister banners on the horizon, and it was time to march. “Go and fetch Lady Alisar. Tell her that we’ve arrived.” The guard to her right nodded and ran down the hill into their camp.
Her horse snorted and pawed at the ground, and she gently patted his neck. The large black beast was a present from her mother, a gift for Dacey’s fist campaign from the main group. She remembered her mother beaming with pride when Dacey was selected by Robb Stark himself to co-lead a force of five hundred men against what they believed to be a raiding party belonging to Tywin Lannister’s camp. Most of their force belonged to House Bolton, troops that her co-commander had brought all the way from the Dreadfort, but Dacey’s confidence came from the troops she commanded from House Mormont. Their green, bear emblazoned banners flapped in the soft breeze, and Dacey herself proudly wore her house’s colors underneath her armor and mail.
She heard the men murmuring behind her and craned her head, catching sight of the young wonder she’d met the other night. Aliser Bolton… A former b*****d turned heir to the Dreadfort. Their stories were not much different. Although Dacey did not know her father, she carried the Mormont name and was her mother’s official heir. On Bear Island, many young women followed the tradition if they did not believe any man was worthy of their hand. Dacey’s own sister had two children already and she was three years younger. But whereas Dacey’s family only had minor stains of dishonor, that her mother had done a rather good job of erasing, Aliser’s father was Ramsay Bolton, the b*****d of Roose Bolton believed to have murdered his trueborn brother to inherit his father’s titles. She could not imagine walking around with such shame…
Dacey watched Aliser ride up to her side, giving the girl a small smile when she stopped beside her. “Good morning my lady… It’s a beautiful morning for battle, isn’t it?” She laughed, the breeze kicking up again and ruffling her braids. “We’re lucky; the winds favor us. My mother used to tell me stories about when the Ironmen would invade Bear Island looking for wives; they only ever came if the wind favored them… Perhaps we'll find ourselves some wives, eh?”