There had been a part of the former squire that had not expected the second-born Forrester son to actually show. The arrangement for the two young men to meet, with the help of his uncle, had not been something easily brought together. If not for its importance, perhaps he may not have even bothered in the first place —- no doubt Asher had much on his hands, but if the North Grove had the slightest chance of lifting some of that weight, it seemed worth the risk and more.
Lord Forrester had told him to only ever tell his uncle of the North Grove, and he hadn’t let himself forget that. It came as some comfort to know that, in a way, it was Duncan himself that chose to let Asher know of its existence. Despite a moment or two in which he had questioned whether he had made the right choice in spreading the word to the Forrester, Gared knew that, truly, Asher had far more a right than even he had to know that the place was real.
Gared would have been lying if he were to have claimed that it did not make him somewhat nervous to stand there, waiting for Asher to arrive. The North Grove was much more than just a place of great power, after all —- those inside it were certainly impossible to forget about. Two children that Lord Forrester had left behind, and bastards at that. The Forrester son had been known for his sudden outbursts of anger, and in that case, it felt only right that he live up to his reputation. Gared only hoped that such anger wouldn’t be taken out on the messenger.
It almost seemed wrong that he had allowed Asher to travel in order for the two to meet up, having been informed of the injuries that the man had sustained whilst fighting for their family. Gared had much to say about what had happened whilst he had been away, though he suspected that much of what had occurred had simply been inevitable. The Whitehill’s had never been big on negotiation, after all, and it only bothered the former squire that he had not been there himself to help. Perhaps it did not make sense, his wish to have been there, but truth be told, it had been a long time since the man understood much of anything. It was apparent that they all had much to accept.
Almost as soon as word was received that Asher was willing to meet had the young man left the North Grove to head towards the small inn that had been decided upon. It was a smart place to have chosen, being both isolated and far from potential enemies, giving them enough time to talk without the worry of someone stumbling across them. His eagerness to make it there had left him waiting for a few hours, though, and if not for his new-found resistance to the harsh chill of the North, perhaps Gared would have found reason to complain. Growing up in the North had built him up to be capable of dealing with almost whatever weather was tossed his way, but beyond the Wall proved to be another thing entirely. The shelter of the North Grove, in that regard, was welcomed.
Head turning toward the door the moment that it begun to move, Gared’s hand briefly went down to brush over the hilt of his sword, stopping only a short moment later upon recognizing Asher as being the person across the room from him. It had been years since the two had seen one another, with the lowborn himself having been little more than a stableboy, but they had still been friends back then, at least to some degree. Perhaps they did not spend all that much time together, but they talked on many occasions, and despite Asher’s dangerous impulses, Gared had never been victim of them. He could only guess that none of that mattered anymore.
" Asher. “ He breathed out, briefly considering the possibility of not being recognized. He’d grown up, that couldn’t be ignored, but Gared liked to believe he hadn’t changed too much – a deeper voice and a little more muscle and hair was hardly drastic, after all. ” I wasn’t sure if you’d show. I’m sorry for —- I wouldn’t have made you come here if it wasn’t important. “ He wanted to ask if Asher was okay, given everything, but it felt foolish to expect much positivity from such words. ” My uncle told me that you already know why you’re here, but, uh… “ Shaking his head, the former squire then raised his hand up, rubbing slowly at the back of his neck. ” I’m really glad that you’re here. When I heard that you were leaving, back then, I didn’t believe that I’d see you again. “
The sentiment was mutual. Asher held shockingly little hope that Gared would show his face. How could he expect him to travel all the way back here for something was... well, pointless to him? As faithful as he’d been to the House, he was not the one to talk about faithfulness and loyalty. He was loyal to House Forrester --- he’d come back across the Narrow Sea for this House --- but how could he expect someone, a lowborn at that, to risk life and limb for a Lord who held no claim to land or title at this moment.
Or perhaps that was the biggest reason of all to give him aid. Gared, more than many, had a reason to help. His uncle, of course --- loyal man and relentlessly determined to aid him no matter what. That was possibly the truest form of loyalty, to stick by someone at their lowest point. He could almost laugh. Years of being lectured by his father. Years of exile. Finally, he was beginning to understand all those lessons he was supposed to be learning as a boy. Gared had been up there, at the North Grove --- apparently his family’s hope for survival. How could he drag up the idea that the man was disloyal by any means?
His reputation preceded him and he knew that well. He’d always been the smart ass, aggressive Forrester son. He knew that other people knew that about him. He’d calmed (marginally) with age and his injury, or so he liked to believe. There were still outbursts, namely toward Duncan in anger for something that was far out of both their control. Yet, he was not falling into his old habits... not that he had the coin or capacity to do so anyway. He was slowly molding to the role he needed to take. That was the scariest part of all to his own realization.
The more he recalled the images of Gared he had in the back of his mind, the more he remembered pictures of his childhood. He was never a good child in the eyes of his father, but he hadn’t gotten bad until he realized Gregor had given up all hope on him. He had his chosen son --- his firstborn. Rodrik was the favorite from the moment he was born, as stubborn as his father tried to be on the matter that he loved all his children equally. He’d spit at the boots of whoever would tried to convince him of that. He cared little of his father’s love and respect, however, even if in death. He held lackluster amounts of concern for his late father in general, as shameful as the thought may be. Yet, he still prided himself on being a Forrester, as disconnected from his father as he had been. Deep down, he knew what he’d done wrong. It was possible all he was doing was some sort of reconciliation for his wrongdoings.
His eyes scanned the sparsely populated inn, catching on a face that look familiar. He hadn’t been gone long enough that he would forget that face completely. A hint of a smile made his lips twitch up from pure relief that his effort to travel here was not in vain. He crossed the space between them with a slight lag in his step from his injury. It was hardly that bad since he’d had time to heal, but he was trying to acclimate himself to his proper stance and stride.
The man already started to trip over his words before he even opened his own mouth. It only made his smile grow a little bit bigger --- a little more amused. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think it was important.” There were many things he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t thought it were important. Coming back to Westeros, for example. Family was important to him. The Forresters were important to him. He would sacrifice his life for his name and that had already been proven.
He could see Gared’s nerves bubbling up on him. Asher knew that this all was very important and it was of immense secrecy, but he couldn’t help himself to take it in any other way except the typical Asher fashion. A cool, calm demeanor on the outside while his stomach churned and lurched down below. More often than not he found himself sick as of late due to his own anxiety getting the better of him in his injured state. Talia had not been pleased with it.
“Your uncle has been telling me many things as of late.” He nodded. That might’ve been an understatement. Duncan has, quite simply, been teaching him how to be a Lord. For that, he would forever be in the man’s debt though as Ironrath’s Castellan and his own sentinel, he supposed that the man had little place to go if he chose to leave. His eyes wandered, looking around at their surroundings and also the company they held. They looked friendly enough for the few there were. “Aye... I didn’t think I’d see Westeros again, let alone the North --- you either.” His smile faltered at the words as he realized that he would still be a sellsword to this day if Malcolm hadn’t come looking for him. The thought was shook away, not wishing to fall prey to the thoughts of ‘what-ifs’. He reached out, clasping a hand on other’s shoulder with a genuine smile on his face in an attempt to calm the boy. “But it’s good to see you, Gared.”
