It had all started when his father had ran away with his step-mother, Lady Lynesse Hightower. His great-aunt had hid him with a guardian on the mainland to keep him away from his father's touch - so when Lord Brandon Stark came to Bear Island upon hearing of his father's crime, of selling poachers to slavers for gold for his Lady Wife - he had immediately declared her as his Lady Regent until he grew of age to rule the island for himself. He was personally find with it, it meant less responsibility, for now at least. Which is what he wanted, for now.
"You best get back to your studies, little Lord." His auntie jokily said, as he stood on the dock of Bear Island, looking out at all the deep, dark waves underneath his feet. It seemed almost endless to Brandon Mormont, the only son and heir of Jorah Mormont. He sighed, before turning his head towards her. She had been his only parental figure these years, given that both were basically dead to him as it was, and thus he owed it to her to listen.
"Ugh, fine." He complained somewhat. "But isn't Lord Brandon...my namesake, coming to see... your progress?" He referred to the mass debt his father had left behind, as well as having to buy everything slowly back since Jorah sold a lot of things that shouldn't had been sold when he was in charge of the island. He had heard that his father made him sleep in a wooden shelf due to selling his own crib for the woman Lynesse, but he didn't know that to be true. It could've been, but he didn't know the full extent of what exactly his father did whilst he was with his Glover relatives on the main island.
"Yes, and you best be prepared for that visit." She stated, taking a flask of whiskey from her waist and drinking the little glass vial until it was empty. "By going back with Lyanna." She pointed to the girl next to her, whom was named after Lyanna Stark, the She-Wolf of Lys. They both shared the same brown-colored eyes and raven coloring, which was considered the Mormont coloring, like the Starks having long faces and grey eyes, the Tully's having blue eyes and ginger hair, and so on and so forth. But even she was taller than him, which was a little embarrassing. His aunt had also considered giving him in marriage to Lyanna, her only daughter, given that they were similarly aged, but something must've come up, for she decided against such an idea.
"Okay!" He smiled, for afterall, Lord Brandon was his namesake. "I can't wait for Lord Brandon to visit us! He's said to be a wicked arse warrior, and that I was lucky to be named after him. The Umbers even had their own Brandon, but he died." By an faceless man in Lys, that is.
Lyanna gave him a wicked smile. "I betcha I could beat you back to Bear Castle, Brandon."
"Oh we'll see, Lyanna." He responded, as the two of them begun to run to the castle. Lyanna raced ahead of him, elegantly and gracefully, without interrupting a single twig on the ground, like a elk. Meanwhile, he stomped through the woods like their House Insigma - a bear - ironically enough, as huffed behind her elegant stepping, although unlike her, he had more stamina on him than she did. He could run for many miles without an end without stopping to take a breather, regardless of how loud he himself was about it, and thus he had to wait for her to tire herself out.
The forest ahead was a dark, mischievous place where old and ancient things grew wild in it's midst. Some of it's trees were said to be from the age of the Children of the Forest, given that some of them had faces on them, but others did not. They did indeed, cut some of their trees for the winter session like everyone else, but it was a vast, untameable forest, so it was impossible to cut them all the face trees down regardless. He meanwhile, found himself staring directly at a sad looking white Heart Tree, with it's red-colored leaves swaying delicately in the wind as they chased each other through it. Sometimes, he felt them, the Weirwood trees he passed, almost stare directly into his soul, and felt a sudden sense of discomfort, like the Gods were watching him; or something else was watching him- but the children of the Forest hadn't been seen since... whom knew? Thousands of years have passed since than, and by now, to Brandon they were nothing but a story to tell small children.
By the time they passed the woods, he huffed, and slowed down slightly, but not enough to stop his movement of running though. Lyanna was continuing her stretch, harmlessly as if to mock his weakness. His aunt had popped up next to them, though she seemed find watching them, and not doing anything to stop them from their current course of action.
As they ran, he saw the statue that he found funniest. It was of a mother and a suckling babe in her arms, as she breastfed the babe with a rather strong expression on her face. It was rather unfortunate that once he was born, he had to get a breast-maid to feed him any milk, whilst Lyanna got her own mother's own breast. It was terribly unfair, but than again girl Bears were the protectors of their tribe, not the males. They were the loners, of whom only came to mate every once in a full moon, and during that time, terrible fights took place whom would be able to mate with which female Bear they found themselves sniffing for. He found that ironic, because his own father forsaken him for a woman, a whiny, arrogant Southern at that and all because he found her pretty, or something, he didn't know, and didn't find himself particularly caring. He was a fool, a weak fool that decided that he needed a southern bride to fulfil his need for spare heirs, or at least according to others, that whispered about him on the island still.
There were other statues too, like of white polar bears that sometimes came fishing down this way alongside its cousin, the brown bear.
As they approached the castle, he'd just barely got ahead of Lyanna sheerly through it being dry, grassland without a curve. He ran, right up until he saw the long drawbridge of Bear Castle. The Castle itself sat on it's own personal mini-island, which was full of cracking seals upon it's cold beachfront. There was also a small patch of empire penguins to the side of it, quacking alongside one another in harmony - he even saw some with coats full of thick, tough fur - in other words he saw baby Empires. Only baby Empires were so fully coated like that, because the adults had ditched them long ago in preference for more leathery attires. He knew this because the gentle Maester had seen to teach him all about the creatures of this region, which included gentle orcas, whom they whaled, hunted down, murdered, and whom's blubbery hide was used as a source of oil for there ships. Ocra's were considered priceless goods in the North, simply due to how truly precious those animals were to the rest of Westeros, of whom were willing to pay a good fee for oil which the Orca's so kindly provided. They also had schools of fresh-water salmon coming this way, and some other small land-based creatures, like flying possums, chipmunks, and some rabbi infected rabbits, but that was about it in terms of land-based critters.
However, that was unimportant, for the large gate slowly lowered, as his aunt signalled them to open the gates. Which they did, ponderously. Bear Castle was a much smaller castle than Winterfell, which was an impressive sculpture, but regardless, Bear Island was quite comfortably sized as far as an island based castle could be - it had enough rooms for thousands of guests like a normal castle should, but he, his cousin, and his aunt occupied the Lord's end of the castle, which consisted of three vast rooms and three toilet-rooms, for their luxury and joy. But he was the Lord of the Castle, thus giving him automatically the largest of the sweets though. In the middle of the House, there was a large, ancient Heart-tree that smiled, with what he could only prescribe as joy. It was a happy, smiling tree, unlike some of the other Houses own weirwood trees, which got either angry or crying Heart-trees in their gardens.
The gates opened, and the three of them crossed the path to the courtyard of their castle. Some of their small-folk lived with them inside of these walls, due to the dangers of the Ironborn invading them and sacking their villages; but none of them slept in their guest-chambers, as they already had built-in accommodations for the small-folks due to the constructors of Bear Castle thinking about the small-folk, unlike most other common lords, he supposed. But they did nevertheless, have a small village outside of their walls feeding them with their catches of fish and what-not. They also collected and gave to them baskets of numerous wild-berries found strewn across the island, which was pretty nice too.
"I won, Lyanna!" Brandon smiled genuinely, as he hugged his cousin, as he flung her tiny frame in the air, much to the amusement of aunt Maede. Lyanna huffed, as he accidentally made sure it was rather hard for her to breath by hugging her too hard.
She gave him a mischievous smile, which also reflected in her oval shaped muddy-brown colored eyes. Her eyes were always alight with energy though, even though by most southern standards, she would be considered a simple looking girl appearance-wise. Her usually long raven-colored hair was tied up in a bun on her head, but right now she wore a dress of leather to protect herself from the elements. She also wore a dirk on her belt, like he did as well. There were indeed dangers on this island, like runaway or washed up Ironborn that sometimes landed on their island and of whom looked to take their items, to realise that their castle was well-fortified on it's pillar of an island.
"This time, Brandon. But you were super loud, stompin' about like some wild beast or something whilst we were in the forest. You need to learn somethin' about that, now don't cha?" She responded sweetly as she stared at him with her mischievous set of eyes.
"Not everyone can overnight be a silent hunter, like you Lyanna." He stormed, moodily. Was she trying to ruin his victory? He didn't like the sound of that.
"That's because your a boy, and boys are all noisy." She snorted.
"And girls are weaker than boys, be shushy Lyanna." He smiled, because he usually defeated her at swordsplay.
"Oh, we'll see about that." She snarled, as she looked about ready to snap at him, before Maede separated the two of them and she was brought to her own chambers by Maede. Meanwhile, he was left alone in the vast courtyard. He sighed, as he walked off back to his chambers to change out of his murky boots and out of his muddled cape he wore, which bore the Bear insigma of House Mormont proudly on display. It was held together by the red glove of House Glover at it's centrepiece, holding it together. He sighed, as he basically strolled back inside, to his own chambers. It would do them no favors to let the Starks see the Lord of Bear Island wearing dirty, muck-covered clothing - no, after this he'd go find the nearest shower, despite it being chilled, iced water due to their fresh-water supply coming from the clouds above. And Bear Island rained hail, snow, and very cold raindrops.
Arya watched both her cousin and her older, perfect sister, walk alongside their respected promised fiancé's - the mild-mannered Domeric Bolton, with those unseemly light blue eyes of his, and SmallJon Umber for the perfectly petite Raya Stark, her beautiful, comely cousin. She had a head of long raven-colored hair and deep grey eyes that could seemly see everything around her, as she walked around Winterfell in her white-raven dress. Both of them were so beautiful though, Arya wasn't. Or at least she didn't feel it - everyone called her 'Arya Horseface' due to her face looking a horses, like Raya's actually, but nobody called her horsefaced though. Everyone called her beautiful, in a sort of icy-filed way like her own auntie Lyanna Stark.
"Are we going to Bear Island?" She looked at her strong father, of whom stood with her and her mother as they overlooked the scene. Of Sansa smiling, embracing her fiancé's arm. Her fiancé wasn't handsome, not in the least next to her. But even he looked happy, even disregarding the fact that he was a Bolton and wore the flayed man sigil with pride on his blood red cloak.
"Yes. You see, since their last-lord left after escaping my justice..." He frowned, "Rhaegar's justice, Ice's justice, they've been rebuilding their wealth once again and I wish to see their progress personally. I also want to bring you along with me, my darling daughter." He put a gentle hand on her chin and stared into her eyes. They had the same grey eyes, unlike Sansa of whom looked like a mini-version of their Tully mother. She looked so dashing, as her fiancé put her on the back of his horse, and the two of them ran off - presumably to the Dreadfort. He sometimes brought her to the Dreadfort, where she met her friend Lyarra Bolton. She was actually surprised at how noble and kind the Bolton children have been acting thus far.
"Oh? Me?" Her grey eyes widened. "I.. I would love to. I've always wanted to be friends with the Mormonts." The new Lord was said to be a boy of strength not seen since Lord Rickard Mormont, the Wild-Bear of whom was considered one of the greatest fighters at the time of him living, beyond Aemon 'the dragonknight' and Cregan Stark, his own liege-lord at the time. She at least listened to history enough to know about whom she wanted to replicate in history - even though the majority of them were men, beyond maybe Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya Targaryen. She had always wanted to be like Visenya, the greatest female fighter of her day, whilst Sansa had always wanted to be Rhaenys, the loved one. Whilst Lyanna Mormont was a great huntress, and she was nearby her age regardless.
"Good. Get packing, dearest. We leave tomorrow and promptly indeed." He winked at her.
"Sansa, Raya, they all so look so happy... and so unbearably feminine with their Lords, with their stuffing gowns." She frowned, thinking about it. Her own auntie, her wild spited auntie wore dresses too. All of them, they weren't her. All she wanted was to be free - and happy to do as she pleased without having to do needlework.
He laughed. "You sound like my sister, Lyanna. She didn't want to marry Robert because she hated stuffed up gowns too - but he loved her for her wild spirit and wanted her spirt to grow. You never know what'll you get, my sweet, little girl."
She felt sort of embarrassed. "Do you plan to marry me off to Brandon Mormont?"
"Maybe. But not if you object. Me and your mother agree that you should be happy in your marriage, if you come to that at least."
"Oh.." She whispered. She didn't want to marry, but if it made her pappy, her darling pappy that allowed her to wield a sword and made her feel free, happy, that she'd be willing too. She knew he'd be happy if she did so. Like he was happy that uncle Ned sent out his sweet daughter, Raya, out for fostering with him. She wanted to make him proud of her, even if she herself didn't like it. Sansa alas, seemed happy in her arranged marriage - who could say it wouldn't be similar for Arya? But than again, Arya wasn't Sansa, the ever-so dutiful eldest daughter, the one that her mum pampered into dutifulness and into a perfectly modeled lady for her Lordly Husband. She, herself though was the kind that befriended bucher boys and other low-classed people - the sort of lowborn that Sansa would never bother to say hello too, much less befriend. But she didn't care though, anyone could be friends with her, regardless of class. "I'll do it for you pappy, if you really want me too." She said, as she gave him a hug, but since she was about the size of one of his legs, she was basically hugging one of his legs.
He chuckled one again, hugging her back with one hand.
