This Bear is not unladylike
The last time the Mormonts marched South Dacey Mormont was left in Bear Island.
Her mother had said no child should march to war, when she rightfully pointed out how Southron squires, younger than her at the time, were going to the Iron Islands to put down the rebellion, Maege Mormont bonked her and left.
Once her mother was back, Dacey, totally not acting like a petulant child, asked how young were the squires who went to fight the Ironborn.
Her mother, very eloquently, bonked her once again.
Now, she was a woman grown and she was marching South to free Lord Stark from the crimson lions in King's Landing. On the way there, she expected to fight someone other than Ironborn or wildlings.
Fucking Ironborn.
Even after being squashed in their stupid rebellion, those fuckers still raided and reaved her home island.
Once captured they would deny any relation to the Iron Islands however. They didn't carry flags nor standards and no matter how they were interrogated, no one would break and say anything about being an Ironborn.
But now, now they would fight something different than the disorganized raiders.
She was, admittedly, nervous of fighting knights. She didn't believe one bit of the tales of invincibility and mighty prowess Southron knights possessed, she was wary of their cavalry charges however.
Last night her mother, possibly sensing her apprehension, sat beside her in the campfire and reminded her of how she wanted to march to war at merely nine name days old.
Her silence was enough for the Lady of Bear Island to add more reassurances.
So her mother told her the stories of the time the North had won a crown for the Baratheon heir, about how at that time not even half the Northern cavalry had proper armor, about how most of the levies had little to no armor and still fearlessly charged to battle.
They both knew that the men who charged were mostly greybeards who preferred to die in glory than to be a burden back at home once winter came, but nobody mentioned it.
Now, she told her, the Northern army was something else, forged with steel and quenched in Northern cold they would march and they would win.
Dacey was a bit mollified after that, but still felt uneasy about their march south.
Yes, the North had won a crown for Robert, but they were not alone, since the beginning they had strong allies in the Vale and the Stormlands, and their commander Lord Eddard Stark had experience fighting against mountain clansmen.
Now, the North was marching alone and their commander was a green boy who has never seen war.
Were they marching to their doom?
Perhaps, but in the end it didn't matter, 'the North remembers' and they would rather die than do nothing and left their Lord Paramount rot alone in King's Landing.
They were marching because they all knew their Lord would do the same for them.
Which brought her to the here and now. The Northern host was in the last stop in the North before going south.
Moat Cailin was the fortress that repelled countless Andal invasions from conquering the land of the First Men hundreds or maybe thousands of years ago.
She had heard, from her mother, that the Moat was in a state of disrepair, only three of the original twenty towers were standing when Maege Mormont passed through last time. At that time, the Moat didn't even have walls.
Now the fortress had the three original towers, one new tower and another one under construction. The walls were fully enveloping the keep and the towers.
It was an ugly keep, all gray and dreary, completely unlike any other keeps or castles she had visited in the North.
The small keep of one of the poorest Northern houses, hers, was easier on the eyes than this monstrosity of a fortress.
But it was not designed to be the majestic seat of power for a noble house, the Moat was a fortress that should never fall, first and foremost.
In that sense, Dacey could see the Moat was never meant to be beautiful, it was the gatehouse of the North and being harsh and unforgiving was perhaps what the North was about.
After walking around the Moat with Alysane, her sister, they decided to eat supper.
The only place in the Moat that had any sense of being designed to look good was the Main Hall, ample and red in color, the stonemasons must've put a lot of work cutting and positioning each individual stone on the floor.
The most important part was that the place was ample, but even then, hosting the Lords and Ladies the Northern host was an impossible task. As such, it was only by luck they were able to find a free table, so they sat.
"Wait here sis, I'm off to find some servant," said Alysane and walked off.
"Aye, servant, Mother won't like if you go and find yourself another bear Aly."
Alysane was younger than her by a year and yet she had already mothered a girl of three name-days and a boy of one.
"Bah, she'll get over it in time. Bahahaha!"
And like that, Dacey had found herself alone in her table, for a time at least, Aly wasn't someone to leave her alone for long.
After a minute or two a maidservant came and asked what dish she wanted. Which was a little surprising, she expected to be overlooked for a while, since she wasn't wearing her coat of arms anywhere or a nice dress to mark her as nobility.
In the end, it didn't matter why the maid approached fast, just that she did. And like that, Dacey asked for a whole grilled chicken and Northern Fries.
Before leaving, the maid left a pitcher of ale. 'For the table' she said.
The Moat was a good place, she decided as she poured some ale for herself.
It was then than someone approached her table.
"Greetings my lady. Can I sit here."
Great, the fucking Lord of the Moat came to her table.
Could she afford to offend him?
The question was dumb, the Mormonts were benefiting from the Stark's firewater. Winterfell financed most of the farming fields in Bear Island and they also buy most of the wood the Mormonts could sell, even if they had some weird stipulations like 'planting more trees than were cut'.
So, she couldn't really offend the lordling in front of her.
It was then the Lord of Moat Cailin, started grimacing.
Shit, she made him wait too long.
"Sure, sit," shit, she didn't call him 'my lord', now this lordling is going to complain to brother dearest, and brother dearest is going to stop buying wood from Bear Island, and then Wint-.
"Here, my lady. Take this as an apology for intruding in your table," he handed her a slender pitcher. "It is flavored firewater, one of the last batches."
Dacey had to do a double take, 'flavored firewater' was what the Braavosi merchants called 'the best thing to ever come out of the primitive Westeros' or so she heard from Daryn.
She emptied her tankard and was about to pour herself some more of the liquid gold when she was rudely interrupted.
"Be careful, my lady. You shouldn't drink a full tankard, firewater is very strong."
"I know, you-," she had to cut herself there, calling the lordling an idiot wouldn't do. So, instead she said, "need not worry, my lord" there, she could act the proper lady when she wanted.
The lordling grimaced a little.
Shit, did he caught her almost slip? He didn't said anything so she had an opportunity to barrel on, and so, she poured herself some of the firewater, not even half her tankard, and sipped a bit.
Old Gods forgive her, but this must be what sin tastes like, she could almost taste fresh apples on each sip.
And she had a full pitcher still. Well, she would have to share with her sister and… Jon, but still it was a lot of glory made liquid to enjoy.
While she was distracted, a servant came and left the table, probably asked what dish Jon wanted.
Then it was just the two and silence soon followed.
Very uneasy silence.
Dacey didn't want to offend the Moat's Lord whose brother happened to be Robb Stark.
If she keeps her silence, will he get offended?
That's a stupid question. Her mother always warned her of how easily a woman could offend a lord, oftentimes not even on purpose.
One of the things included in that warning, was keeping unresponsive in the company of a lord.
Damnation, what was she supposed to do? Ask something? Hey, have you killed your first man, my lord?
That's not very lady-like.
Come on Dacey, think, there must be something lady-like you can talk about.
The flowers in the Moat? Were there even flowers close?
Gods damn you Dacey. Fuck it, time to use the ol' reliable.
She was preparing her best straight face to ask about the climate while sipping her tankard to gain time when Jon interrupted.
"So, did you know that lizard-lions taste really bad?"
"Huh?"
"Well, there was this time, the Moat was in charge of a shipment of tools to the Fenns. So on we went, our supplies just right for the supposed journey," Dacey could see where this was going. "Then, of course something went wrong, the wagon was too heavy to make it through the muddy and uneven roads so we had to move slow. So, of course we ran out of food and still had a big and heavy wagon to pull. Some of the guards, natives to the Neck, proposed to make an early camp so that they could hunt some frogs for the whole party, I thought to be a good plan but the non-native guards and I felt it wrong to leave it all on the capable hands of the crannogmen so we also went hunting."
At that point Jon took the firewater pitcher and poured for himself on a small wooden mug, once he finished he asked her "My lady, do you want me to pour you some?", Dacey nodded and had her tankard refilled.
Jon sighed, "So, long story short, we hunted a lizard-lion, roasted it, the crannogmen were still out looking for frogs and so we started eating."
Jon raised his mug and drank it all in one fluid movement.
"It was the most foul meat I've ever had in my life. That thing tasted like what I imagined the dirtiest, darkest bog-mud tastes like."
Jon finished his story and poured himself more firewater.
For some reason, Dacey could see Jon had this far away look while telling his story, but there was a problem with it.
"I've heard crannogmen eat lizard-lions, how could they, if the taste is so horrendous?"
"Ahh, that's what I learned after eating my piece, when the men hunting frogs returned to camp," Jon bent closer to her as if to tell her a secret. "Apparently, the lizard-lion meat is salted and smoked for a long time, otherwise it tastes like shit."
"Wait, you just said after finishing your piece? Why would you finish eating if it tasted like shit?"
"Well…" Jon scratched his cheek sheepishly. "I think it was hunter's pride, or something like that. We hunted, washed and roasted the thing. When we took the first bite, we exchanged looks as if challenging anyone to say it tasted bad, no one said anything so we kept eating as if nothing happened."
Huh… "That was dumb."
Dacey felt the world had stopped at that point.
Why can't you keep your mouth shut Dacey!?
Before she could say her most sincere 'sorry', Jon chuckled.
"Yah, that's what the men who went frogging told us once they got back, we threw the rest of the meat and drank ale to wash the taste."
Dacey then understood, that Jon wasn't bad company, perhaps even acceptable company.
It was then, a servant came with her dish, but before silence came back to the table she said, "So, how did you even caught a lizard-lion?"
So Jon explained it and in turn Dacey told him about the wilding and Ironborn patrols in her island.
It was then that her sister came back.
"Mother won't like it if you find yourself a bear, she said," Alysane mocked. "It seems someone found herself a wolf! Bahahaha"
Dacey sagged on her chair as she gave a weary look to her sister.
Shit.
Daryn Hornwood is not projecting, not at all
Daryn Hornwood hated Jon Snow.
Well, not really, 'hate' is a strong word, too strong to describe what Daryn felt for the Bastard of Winterfell.
What he really hated was the threat Jon represented, or could represent.
Bastards are born of lust and weakness and are born to betrayal, at least that's what Daryn's mother said.
And therein lies the issue. Lord and Lady Hornwood had been married for a long while, but their union didn't bear fruit other than Daryn.
Daryn himself wasn't privy to why that was exactly, but the fact of the matter is that he was the only son of Lord Halys Hornwood, at least until his father got himself a bastard.
Larence Snow, his baseborn brother ignited something in Daryn's mother.
As a child, Daryn always preferred to spend time with his mother than his father, if someone ever heard this thoughts, they would probably label him as weak and feminine, but in the privacy of his own mind, Daryn could be sincere, at least to a degree.
His mother was always warm and soft where Lord Halys Hornwood was always harsh and demanding.
For the first decade of his life, Daryn Hornwood delighted himself in his mother's warmth. But then, Larence Snow was born and Lady Donella Hornwood became angry and cold, and so Daryn started resenting his bastard brother.
Other than changing the gentle and caring personality of hers, Lady Hornwood started reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star to Daryn every night.
Particularly any and all passages about the sin of bastardy. Other than that, Lady Hornwood would always tell him how he could never trust Larence, that it is in his nature of a bastard to crave what was Daryn's by right.
It took a long time, but in the end Daryn was able to see his brother for what he was: a boy just like him, a boy who wanted to swing his sword and find glory for himself, a boy who looked at his brother the way Daryn looked at Lord Eddard Stark, like a hero made flesh.
And so, Daryn started reading with his brother, sometimes even helping him train in the courtyard and when the time came for little Larence to go to the Glovers, Daryn knew he would miss his little brother, a lot.
They write to each other regularly, and in his last letter Larence told him how he was starting to train with live steel. On his side, Daryn told him how he organized the patrols on the Hornwood lands. He wanted to tell him about the Hornwood host, about they marching South to free Lord Stark, but for some reason, he couldn't do it. He would tell his little brother about the campaign face to face he decided, and so he sent one last letter before riding to Winterfell.
On the whole, Daryn loved his brother just as his brother loved him.
But on the darkest of nights or mayhaps while listening to his mother talk, Daryn would ask himself 'What if Larence was my age?' or 'What if Larence was born earlier?'
There was that doubt, corrosive and prickly.
Daryn knew his little brother Larence would never usurp him, but had Larence been born before him… his mother had read him the stories, the crimes and kinslaying, the scheming and backstabbing.
These were things, Daryn didn't want to occupy his mind with, but it was these very things that he kept thinking about while in Moat Cailin.
This was due to Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell.
Daryn had met Robb back when the Hornwoods went to Winterfell for a harvest feast way back in the autumn following King Robert's victory over the Targaryens.
Over the years, Daryn met Robb a few more times, usually when Lord Stark went to Hornwood Keep to visit.
At those times, on occasion Robb would talk about his bastard brother, and Daryn could see how Lord Stark's children cared for each other, similar to how Daryn and Larence did.
And thinking of those times, it only immersed Daryn more and more in his dark thoughts.
It was like that, on the march from Winterfell to the Moat, that Daryn asked Robb if he ever feared his brother usurping his rights.
Robb gave him an glare that almost froze Daryn's blood and bones. It was as if behind Robb's eyes there was only Winter, and like that Daryn got his answer.
He apologized to Robb immediately but the damage was already done.
They haven't talked since.
It's been a day since the Northern host arrived at the Moat, and his accommodations made him feel like royalty, not the beds or the furniture, the 'bathroom'.
He couldn't wait to see Harrion Karstark and ask him how well the Drunkard's tower had treated him.
After having another delightfully long 'hot shower', he had to admit that Jon Snow did a magnificent job with the apartments.
There were whispers that the Manderlys were arriving either tomorrow or the day after, Old Gods forgive him but he would be loathe to abandon his apartments when the time to march south came.
Shelving those thoughts aside, Daryn went down to the courtyard, he has to keep his sharpness afterall.
Once in the courtyard, he could see the other noblemen. To his left there were the Umbers, father and son sparring with their oversized swords. To his right he could see the Karstark brothers, sparring with sword and shield, Daryn was about to join them when a few meters to the Umbers' flank he saw one bastard sparring with the Mormont sisters.
Robb had told him how his brother didn't have a good sword hand, maybe it was because of it that he was curious to see how the Bastard of Winterfell fights.
So Daryn casually strode to the side of Lady Maege Mormont. The Lady of Bear Island greeted him with a grunt that he reciprocated.
They were both warriors afterall.
He was barely crossing his arms when he saw the Castellan of Moat Cailin being trounced to the ground.
Daryn winced and from the corner of his eye, he could see the Mormonts also did the same.
So it seems the bastard brother of Robb is lacking with a sword.
"Uhm, uh. Are you hurt?" Dacey said while walking towards the Bastard of Winterfell.
"Gods, you are so strong, my lady!" the bastard said as he took Dacey's hand to get up.
Dacey lowered her morningstar and said, "So uhm, sorry about that."
"It's fine, I asked you to for the spar," Jon went and picked up his sword. "Care for another round."
Dacey tensed but gave him a firm nod.
"Seems the boy can take a blow," muttered Lady Maege to his side.
They rounded up each other, Jon doing feints and Dacey not falling for any of them. And then Dacey broke through Jon's defense with a swing of her morningstar and stepped in, then tackled him with a shoulder and he went down to the ground.
Dacey offered her hand once again and Jon once again stood up.
"My lady, that footwork of yours is great, amazing even!"
It seems that while Jon Snow doesn't have the best sword hand, he has spirit. Daryn could respect that, maybe.
Lady Maege had a wolfish smile on her and said, "Lad, why don't I take you on the next round? This old woman needs some exercise."
That sounded… weird.
"Mother, why don't you spar with Aly if you need the exercise?" growled Dacey while she puts herself in front of Jon.
"Let's go mother, it seems to me that a bear is having too much fun to share," said Alysane before pulling the Mormont ladies with her.
That, was weird.
After a few breaths, Daryn could hear the roaring laughter of the Mormonts.
A moment later, a servant came and told something to Jon.
"It seems I am needed elsewhere so, see you soon Lord Daryn," he then turned to Dacey. "I'll meet you on the Hall, my lady."
And with that, he left.
"Hey Dacey, wanna spar," Daryn asked.
"Nah, I'll go and teach my family some manners."
Daryn was confused about the whole exchange, but at the same time, his head was clearer than last night, so he decided his next course of action.
It was time to brag about 'hot showers' and annoy some of the Karstarks.
Amanda
Amanda was on her way to a meeting with the lord who doesn't want to be called lord.
In order to arrive at the 'meeting room', she had to cross the Moat's courtyard.
"Shut up, Nilton. You are maidenless! Always have been," some men in the yard were guffawing.
Amanda could tell it was a Moat's guard due to the peculiar use of language he had. It was irritating, why can't they properly use the language?
While getting closer to the Keep proper, she had to supress the urge to gloat as that would be improper.
The Umber and Karstark household had idiotically refused to lodge themselves in the apartments, but the Old Gods are good and after a day of having their fellow nobility kindly inform them of the superb accommodations, they relented and had to humble themselves in front of their Lord Robb Stark to be allowed in the apartments originally intended for them.
Amanda was there in the Main Hall when a coy Rickard Karstark and Jon Umber inquired about the apartments.
The only thing that would've made the scene better, was if it was her lord Jon, in place of Lord Robb Stark.
Alas, the Old Gods can't give everything to their faithful devotees or else they would grow lazy and complacent.
Amanda entered the Keep, went up the stairs turned left and waited for the guards to announce her.
"Hello Amanda, please sit."
She did a curtsy, as was proper, and went to her sit.
"As you already know, the North is marching South," that, Amanda knew in detail. Her lord Jon and his brother were going south to bring back the other Starks back to the lands under the Old Gods protection.
"This meeting is to share all the relevant information, and also as a goodbye to the ones who are marching South," the Lord Castellan paused and gazed into everyone's eyes. "On that front, the ones going are Hatten, Ryk and me."
It was already known, Garth was a veteran of previous wars but the man couldn't properly march great distances, his knees would betray him long before any battle could get him. Lagg was needed in the Moat to take care of the ravens and to keep the ledgers. And Amanda, well that was self-explanatory.
"As such Garth will be training new recruits to make up for the guards that are leaving. Lagg will keep teaching ravenry to his students and the logistics for the Moat's projects. Amanda your task will be to keep the larders stocked and the Moat's internal logistics."
That was reasonable, Amanda was a child when Lord Stark went South with an army to get a crown for King Robert, and she remembered how entire villages marched to war to recover Lady Lyanna. Currently they were experiencing a long Summer, so an equally long Winter is to be expected.
"I'm leaving instructions to slow down the armor and weapon production in the Moat's steelworks," Jon continued. "however, we are not stopping, it is highly possible the Northern army will need to restock and as such, be prepared to ship them swiftly."
"Should we keep the crossbow production, Lord Castellan? The Moat's guardsmen still prefer bows," asked the half-maester.
"Yes, I'm thinking we could sell them to our fellow Northmen or to the Riverlanders once we are south," Jon answered.
Amanda would never have thought to sell their crossbows, but then again, she didn't know much about war nor was she a merchant herself.
"It shall be done, Lord Castellan," bowed Lagg.
There was another thing they needed to decide before the Northern host left.
"Lord Castellan, who will be the acting steward?" asked Amanda.
"I was thinking that since the three of you are taking on all the stewardly tasks, you should be deciding that yourselves."
This was unexpected, Amanda thought Lord Jon would name Lagg the acting steward, but since he asked for them to decide, "I think Garth should be named acting steward."
Garth was about to say something, but was cut by Lagg, "Yah, I too believe that."
"And I oppose," said Garth. "I'm no good with numbers or letters, all I can do is train the boys to not stab themselves with the pointy bits of their halberds."
Her lord didn't say anything, and when she turned to him all she got was a nod.
So, she made her thoughts clear, "The guards and servants respect you Garth, neither Lagg nor I can say the same."
The half-maester shrugged and gave Garth a pat on the shoulders, "Just accept it man. It's not like we are gonna leave you alone, you just have pretend like you did everything by yourself."
"You will have me a mummer?, boy," grunted the master-at-arms.
"You know that's not what I meant… Amanda please?" said Lagg.
Amanda rolled her eyes, "It'll be ten or so minutes of us telling you it has to be you, and ten or so minutes of you huffing and puffing about how it can't be you, and then you'll accept your post," her lord and Hatten smirked, "So save us the pointless bickering and just accept."
"Yah, just as she said," Lagg patted him once again.
"Others take you," Garth muttered. "Fine, I'll be the acting steward. But I won't forget this, raven boy."
With that settled, Jon told them about the dinner he had with his brother and left.
A few minutes later a servant came and Hatten also left, something about the Blackmyres.
It was up to them to finish the last points in the agenda.
"Our scouts say the Manderly host is arriving tomorrow before noon, and that Lady Stark is coming with them," informed Ryk.
"Any word on the Lannister Imp? Does Lady Stark has him captive?" asked Garth.
"No mention of him, it is possible Lady Stark sent him to Winterfell," Ryk seemed like he wanted to say something else but held his tongue.
There was not much else to say, everyone took some notes on their journals and were preparing to leave when Garth spoke.
"Raven boy, you see… there's this child… my grandson, can you teach him his letters?"
"Uhm, sure man, but why don't you teach him yourself?"
"Because the last time he tried teaching someone, it ended in shouting and a girl crying," said Amanda nonchalantly.
Garth turned crimson, "It wasn't that bad, the girl ended up learning her letters."
"Yes, from me," said Amanda with a raised brow.
Garth muttered something for himself, a curse most likely.
"Yes, Gods forbid a soldier not being a good teacher. Hurry raven boy, will you teach him?"
"No problem man."
And with that, they all stood up and left the meeting room.
Amanda went to the kitchens, talked with her staff and help them clean it all once the people at the Main Hall left.
Once in the servants apartments, while walking to her room she heard sobs from one of the doors.
She was tired and wanted to go to bed, but just as the North remembers, Amanda herself remembers. She remembers a time when her father and brother left for war, she remembers the little girl who cried rivers and also, she remembers the little girl who had to grow up alone.
So she stopped and knocked on the door, "Lori, open the door child."
Nothing.
She sighed, "Lori, listen girl, I don't know why are crying, but mayhaps having someone by your side will help."
Amanda waited a few breaths before the door opened.
"I'm sorry Lady Amanda, I'm… my brother is marching south and I… I don't want him to go," Amanda hugged the girl before started crying once again.
"Everyone has their duties girl," she said as softly as she could.
"But, what if… what if…" the girl in her arms started sobbing.
Amanda could tell her that everything would be fine, that her brother would come back safe. But Amanda didn't want to lie. So she just held the girl.
"You can write to him, you know? The supplies will go to Lord Robb Stark's army and with them any letters for the soldiers."
That seemed to grab Lori's attention, "But, Lady Amanda, my brother doesn't know how to read."
"There are other men who can, they will read your letters to him."
The girl seemed to calm down a little, "Lady Amanda, I… I can't write."
That wasn't entirely true, all the servants in the Moat knew to read and write their own names, each bedroom had their names at the door so as to make it easier to navigate.
But other than that…
"I'll teach you, girl. I've been needing some help for some time," and if a helper became two, well Amanda would only benefit, right?
Lori nodded and started drying her eyes.
"We'll start tomorrow child, for now you should rest."
"Yes, Lady Amanda." The girl gave her a final hug. "Thank you," and bowed deeply.
Once in her rooms, Amanda remembered the last time she saw her father and brother.
She could barely remember their faces by now and for that, she hated herself a little.
That night, Amanda dreamt of forests, fishing and easy laughter.
A/N: This is the last stockpiled chapter I have, so next one will take longer.
As for schedule I'm thinking about once a week.
Also, this is a robbery /̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ give me your comments or else!!!