A/N: So, after watching Season 4 of GoT, being totally hooked and very much missing Richard Madden, I thought I would try my hand at this. A few authors that I am following have posted GoT stories recently, and their wonderful writing has inspired me somewhat. This is what I imagine would happen to a family that would fall apart - and have the pieces reforged in a different way. This will be a Robb/OC story, but it is a little slow going as I build up the story, from Jeorelle's story.


Chapter one: The Little Bear.

House Mormont is an old, proud house. We are bannermen to the Starks of Winterfell, and the Homely Hearth – which is only named thus because of the warm fires lit because it is cold as Winter all year round – is a monument to the free Men of the North - with a Heart tree; a towering Weirwood with an impassive face, a sigil of the Old Gods of the North, sitting peacefully in the courtyard - prayed to by men and women who make their living from the land and the sea. We fish. We Hunt. We Thrive. Like the bears of old, who still litter the Wolfswood and the forests near Deepwood Motte. Our Sigil is a proud Black bear with bloody paws and a bloody tongue, and almost roars the motto to those who hate our island; our proud, fierce words; Here we stand.

The women here are different from any of the other seven kingdoms too. We fight. We do not merely act as dutiful, graceful wives. In our history, the women of Bear Island were always raped and pillaged by the raiders, be they wilding or ironborn, and so – we learned to fight. There is a great carving above the gates to the Homely Hearth of Bear Island. It is of an enormous woman, clad only in a bearskin. She is suckling a child at her breast with one hand, whilst the other wields a battle axe.

With all the fierceness, I guess you could say our women are hard, but that isn't true. Our matriarchal line is full – there are many women in our family, and all are able to fight – naturally, but we are all taught differently. Believe it or not, there are only two men of the Bloodline of House Mormont. Father - Jeor Mrmont, and Jorah. His sister, Maege, has five daughters: Dacey, Alysane, Jorelle, Lyra and Lyanna. Most of the women in our family have learned to wield the axe. It is a favourite in our history after all. Alysane and Dacey both learned the sword, in an attempt to inherit Longclaw – our ancestral weapon. A bastard blade of Valyrian steel with a bear head carved into the pommel, but I chose Archery. I am the daughter of Ser Jeor Mormont, Lord of Bear Island. He is affectionately known as the Old Bear, and I am known on the island as the Little Bear. After mother passed in childbirth with me, Father began to distance himself. I was to be raised a Lady. He named me Jeorelle, and then shut me out emotionally. My brother raised me. He was several years my senior, already married before I could walk.

Elenya Glover passed away when I was ten. I was devastated. She was more a mother to me than any other, and my brother Jorah was distraught. They loved each other so deeply, and never had the chance for children, with two miscarriages and a stillborn son finally taking Elenya from us. He had Jorah's hair. My hair. Mormont hair. Then he married that witless woman. He took me to a tourney in Lannisport. He decided he would compete. I bet him two gold dragons he would win.

It was my first time to a tourney, and the noise immediately made my stomach curl. The tourney had been decided on to celebrate the defeat of the rebels on the Iron Islands, and I remember Jorah telling me that the last son of Lord Balon Greyjoy was now a ward at Winterfell with our liege Lords. He sat me near the King, as he saw Ser Balman Byrch eyeing me up from his pallid eyes and monstrous yellow moustache. King Robert Baratheon, the first of his name turned his gaze upon me. He was tall, as most grown men are to ten year old girls, and a dark stubble covered his hard jaw, his black mane of curls causing him to look almost feral. Beside him sat his new bride – Queen Cersei.

Cersei Lannister; probably the prettiest woman to grace the seven kingdoms; with her flowing golden locks, and her flashing emerald eyes, her slender figure, even while obviously with child, and not yet a day over twenty five, but still looking nineteen! Her son Joffrey sat beside her, barely five, and watching the approaching knights with rapture.

"Who in the name of the seven are you then, girl?" the King bellowed at me. I turned my brown eyes to look at him, and stood, sweeping into a curtsey. "I am Jeorelle Mormont, your Grace. Of Bear Island." I explained timidly. He swept a look at the people around me.

"And did you walk all the way here, girl?"

"No, your Grace. My brother, Ser Jorah Mormont brought me. He is to compete." I said. I heard a few chuckles behind me, but chose to ignore it. The King laughed and turned back to the crowd. "Well, the little Mormont wants to see the tourney, so let it begin!" he commanded loudly.

Lance after lance clashed and crashed and unseated brilliant Knights. My brother got hit in his first tilt, but unseated Lord Jason Mallister in the second. The King explained that we got possession of the horse because Mallister was unseated. I nodded, never taking my eyes from my brother. He was hurt, that I could see. He rolled his shoulder and shook his head, his skull rattling around inside his helm, before he waved off his squire and prepared to beat Lord Yohn Royce.

He didn't beat Lord Yohn Royce.

He annihilated him. Unseated in the first tilt. In one afternoon, my brother had unseated four knights. Mallister, Royce, and then with a dislocated shoulder, both Ser Hosteen Frey and Ser Ryman Frey were unhorsed. We spent the night at our inn and laughed together. Jorah showed me how to sell a horse for the right price, and what to look out for in a good beast.

"You must always learn Ellie." He schooled. I nodded, drinking in his wisdom. "Always find something to learn about everything. Be it what weather is good to travel in, what food is good in which tavern, or what vice most people are sin to give in to."

I cocked my head at that one, my brown eyes meeting his blue ones. He gestured over my shoulder. We were having food in the inn, and I turned and saw a large man groping at a woman. I crinkled my nose. "Aye, you do well to turn your nose up, sister, but it is how they make their living. Without their strengths they would starve." He lectured. I nodded, understanding this was all part of my lesson to learn. I watched him intently.

He gave ample money to the woman whilst drinking copious amounts of wine. "So tomorrow, when I face him, I will do what, little bear?" he asked me. I turned back to look at him, and remembered what he was like the morning after his last name-day.

"Make lots of noise, like banging your gauntlets on your shield, and maybe even frighten the horse?" I supplied quietly. He grinned and nodded. "Good girl. Now, to bed with you, to be ready for tomorrow."

The next morning, I resumed my seat near the king. "Back for more, girl?" he asked. I nodded once again. "I like to learn, your Grace." I said, with a curtsey. My eyes roamed the crowd and the other knights. I had checked the lists this morning on my way to the seats. Lord Whent was an easy foe, but my brother got a lance to the face against Ser Lyle Crakehall. I squealed a little when I saw the blood from his head, but he shook it off. I knew I looked white as a sheet, probably trembling like a doe in winter, but it frightened me. People said you could be harmed in a tourney, but this was my first time believing it.

I could hear giggling from near me and I scouted the seats, fighting to keep a sneer from my face as I saw the crowned Prince laughing at Jorah's injury. His pretty blond head was thrown back and his pretty tinkling laugh spurted from his pretty pink lips. I wanted to hit him. Hard.

The next tilt saw Jorah unhorse Ser Crakehall. I couldn't have been more relieved. He had a break before the next tilt, and so I bolted to his tent and hugged him tightly, my face squashing against his armour.

"Don't die doing this, Jorah. I know I said you'd win, but I would rather you lost so I can stay with you. Don't go to Elenya yet!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. He faltered at that and scooped me into his arms.

"Don't worry, little Bear. I won't. I miss her too." He soothed, running a gloved hand down my back softly. He made me stay with his squire for the next one. He tilted against Ser Boros Blount, and won on points. No one hurt. No one unhorsed. I managed a breath at that.

"You know," Jorah began, running a hand through his soft brown hair, as he sat in his tent with me, waiting for the final. "If I win, I get to crown a Queen of Love and Beauty." He stated. I turned to him, my eyes wide. "You must pick the Queen!" I said immediately.

"Why, little Bear?" he asked me.

"Because I don't think the real Queen would like it if someone else were called that. I wouldn't." I said.

Jorah chuckled and rubbed a hand through my hair now, and I slapped at his hand, before curtseying and returning to my seat. I had just folded my hands into my lap when I turned to see the Queen at my side.

"Your brother will be tilting against mine, little dove. Shall we watch together?" she asked me, offering me a hand. I nodded, a huge smile on my face, as I accepted the Queen's offer. She seated me beside her, on Joffrey's seat – the Prince having been taken away for a nap.

Ser Jaime Lannister looked regal on a horse. He was young, and fit on a horse, and he was deadly, or so I had heard. I worried my fingers in my lap as I watched, praying to the Old Gods that Jorah would be alright. I didn't care if he won anymore, I just wanted him to be alright. The Queen watched quietly, as the riders took their positions. Before the start though, Jaime Lannister approached the Queen and asked for her favour, and the Queen tied a red ribbon around his lance. I watched as Jorah approached the crowd the other side of us, as though entranced, and returned to the lists with a pretty purple ribbon atop his lance.

They tilted and they tied.

They tilted and they tied.

They tilted, and Jorah – my Ser Jorah Mormont, my brother and father figure and idol, unseated Jaime Lannister! I clapped and cheered for him, standing at the rail, whooping in an unladylike manner, when he shocked me. He crowned a blonde lady in the crowd his Queen of Love and Beauty! He was supposed to crown Queen Cersei! Who was that woman? Was that her favour he wore? I slowly climbed down and sat in his tent, awaiting what I thought would be his immediate return.

He came back an hour later. Grinning from ear to ear. "Wasn't she beautiful Ellie?!" he exclaimed goofily. I had never seen him like this before. An uneasy feeling settled into my belly and I shook my head.

"I am sorry Jor, I did not see her." I replied politely. If he noticed my careful answer, he didn't show it. We stayed another week at Lannisport, before we left, and finally Jorah explained his mood on the day of the tourney.

"I spoke to her father. Lynesse and I are to be wed." he said jovially.

"Lynesse?" I asked him, disbelief pouring from every syllable.

"Aye, Lynesse Hightower, daughter of Leyton Hightower, Lord of Oldtown." He explained. I grumbled for the rest of the journey home. it would take over a fortnight to go by horse, so we got a boat. It was only a six day ride, and as habitants of an island, we were both completely at ease on a boat.

"But what about Elenya…?" I asked softly.

"Elenya is gone. She would want me to be happy. And you need a woman who isn't aunt Maege. She is too much like her own weapons. The old battleaxe." He grumbled the last part which made me giggle. "Lynesse is a lady, and she can show you how to be a lady. Ellie, I want the best for you, and I will do everything I can to look after you." He said.

I gazed at my brother then. He was my whole world, and I had no doubt that he would make a fine Lord of Bear Island when Father no longer could. We reached the island and I went back to my studies and sewing, and archery, while Jorah and father argued about the match he had made without alerting father.

A month later, and a large boat docked at the end of our island. A party of sixty disembarked with flowers and crates of clothing and food. It was Lynesse Hightowers' wedding party. Today was the day and my brother would be wed again. The ceremony blurred past, and soon it was time for the feast. I had my hair done in the southern style, and a floaty pink dress. It was freezing, but Lynesse had insisted all ladies be dressed in style.

I wish she would have seen Aunt Maege. Or my cousins. I couldn't look at them – or Jorah for that matter, because he was certainly as bad as me – without laughing into a goblet of water. Two hours into the feast, I was falling asleep into my lemon cakes and so Jorah hoisted me over a shoulder and carried me to my chamber.

"Goodnight, little Bear." He smiled and kissed my forehead, before leaving my room.

I loved my brother dearly, but as I slipped into the warm embrace of a dreamless sleep, I couldn't help but worry over the uneasy feeling settling into my bones, that this was a bad idea, a marriage on a whim, and all that could follow.