Wrapping up the storyline for Jorah and Erlora before going back to the mess that is Jamie and Brienne. Thanks for the support and cheers!


The Bear and the Maiden Fair: Jorah

Jorah hissed in discomfort as the last of his armor was removed. He waited until his vassal set it aside, with the rest waiting to be polished before Jorah waved a hand in dismissal. It could wait until the morning. Right now, he wanted nothing more than a bath and a drink. Jorah poured himself the drink while he waited for the servants to bring in hot water to fill the tub he kept as permanent furniture in his room, situated in its own nook closest to the bay window that looked westward. He moved to stand by this window and watched the sun sink into the sea, his thoughts turbulent as they recalled the days' events.

Though no skirmish had taken place during this last round of patrols, the pesky Ironborn had quite literally brushed their boats alongside some of Jorah's own and more than a few insults, and random objects had been thrown between before the Ironborn had retreated towards the south. Typically they sailed into Bear Island waters, or even further north, proving themselves a nuisance and a reminder that they were hired out to the new government in the south. However, in the past weeks, their behavior had grown more erratic and aggressive. No lives lost or ships sunk, yet, but Jorah got the distinct feeling that if this situation wasn't dealt with swiftly and decisively, then the inevitable would occur: war.

Jorah had reported this increasingly aggressive behavior to Robb Stark as well as to Jon Snow and now awaited both of their insight. While Bear Island operated independently, it still held fealty to the Stark's, and there were even members of Bear Island serving with Jon Snow along the Wall, keeping order at the borders and further into the northern reaches of Westeros. Both Snow and Stark needed to know that the Ironborn were growing more arrogant and cocksure, either independently of orders from the government down south or as a direct result of orders.

The servants were quick to fill the tub and left as silently as they had come. It had taken some time for Jorah to reintegrate into the culture of his home island, but now he no longer felt the odd tugging in his mind whenever the people acted sufficiently, efficiently, and nothing more or less than what you requested. They were friendly enough, though came across as obtuse and rude with outsiders, and Jorah found himself relishing in the lack of small talk and unnecessary interactions whereas before he'd almost expected them.

Finishing off his drink, Jorah shed the rest of his garments before slowly stepping in the steaming confines of the tub. He didn't often take this luxury, though he was reminded time and again by his niece that he had the right to bathe as often as he damn well pleased since he was the Lord Commander of Bear Island. Jorah smirked at the thought of his willful and formidable cousin niece. He hadn't allowed her to push him into the position of ruling Bear Island alone, he kept her around, along with other family members, to take care of all the duties that would generally fall on one man's, or woman's, shoulders. It wasn't because he was missing a limb either, though some had speculated as much. Jorah knew from experience that he was only as smart as the room of people around him and that with the new complexities of politics surrounding both North and South, it would behoove him to utilize as many minds as possible to ensure their survival.

Jorah closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the tub as he stretched out his limbs and allowed his body to float. So much had happened in the years since the war, and while he was content to be home again, when before he thought he'd never have a place to call home, he was still listless in the times he wasn't presently occupied. He knew where the listlessness came from but refused to say it aloud. Words spoken had far more power than words thought. But even with that adage in mind, the image of HER came unbidden to Jorah and he sighed, his body momentarily sinking beneath the waters.

Why did it have to be so damned complex and challenging? He had the shittiest luck when it came to women. Ended up in exile partially because of a woman, then spent years of his life pining after a dragon queen who had used his love for her to her own whims, and then…then he'd been gifted by the gods another chance at love and he'd chosen family duty over her. Of course, in retrospect, Jorah knew that there was no place for the likes of him in the south now. He would never have fit in with the new government and most likely would've ended up in exile all over again had he followed Erlora. And he couldn't blame Erlora for not following him to Bear Island either. She was from the Free Cities and had never lived a life of fealty to a lord or lady. She worked as a spy for Varys but had held no allegiance to any monarch. To expect a woman like that to come north and be content with these "old ways" was preposterous.

Jorah resurfaced, his lungs screaming for air, and wiped a hand over his face to rid it of the water droplets in his eyes. He reached for the small towel the servants had placed by the tub but stopped when his hand found nothing. Jorah turned to look at where he'd known it had been left. His whole body tensed, and he gripped the edge of the tub tighter when he saw two cloaked figures standing just out of reach. One was male and the other was so slight that there was no mistaking it as female and it was the female who now held the towel.

"If you're here to kill me," Jorah growled at them, "do it quick or better yet, let me have my sword so I can die fighting at least."

The male figure snorted, "You're not going to call for your guards?"

Jorah thought he recognized the voice but couldn't place it, not yet, "You know from standing here that I keep no guards. I thought I did not need to." He glanced between the two figures and growled out his words, "What the hell do you want?"

"To talk to you." The male responded, taking a short step closer, though still maintaining distance and, for whatever reason, keeping the female between himself and Jorah.

"Typically, that happens when all parties are fully dressed."

"We thought," the female stepped closer, and if Jorah wanted to, he could've swiped out with his hand and grabbed hold of her arm, "that this conversation would be best had in private and without risk of your turning us away before listening."

The hair on Jorah's neck raised, and his gut flipped. He knew that voice. As if sensing his recognition, the female removed her hood and Jorah looked onto the face of none other than Erlora Naharis. She barely a day older than when they'd last seen each other at Winterfell years before and when she smiled, Jorah felt his lips move into a matching one, despite the situation, but then the male removed his hood and the sight of Theon Greyjoy had Jorah stiffening again.

"What is it you wish to discuss that would require me to be without pants?" Jorah did not feel that they would kill him, especially not Erlora, and so leaned back into the tub and did his best to relax. No use in having the bath go to waste. He held out his hand to Erlora and indicated the towel. He was surprised when she continued to smile and quickly gave it to him, along with a bar of soap.

"The situation with the Ironborn," Erlora spoke first, her eyes shamelessly following Jorah's movements as he soaped up the towel and set about washing. It was always tricky to get both sides equally clean ever since he'd lost his sword hand, but he'd learned to make do. Erlora continued, "You must be made aware of what is happening amongst the Ironborn before you act on recent events."

Jorah raised his eyebrows, "I don't suppose either of you will tell me one, how you got here without raising the alarm, and two, how is it that you," he pointed to Erlora, "decided that now would be the best time to inform me of whatever it is you're about to tell me."

True to his assumption, both ignored his plea. Instead, Theon spoke up first.

"My uncle Euron killed my sister Yara over the alliance with the government in the south. Neither Yara nor myself felt that it was following the old ways, or lucrative for our future, to be allied with this government." Theon stepped closer, still out of reach, but from his movements, Jorah could tell that Theon was convinced of the importance of his own words. "There has been a power struggle between factions amongst the Ironborn for some time now and only recently did I manage to garner enough supporters to merit this meeting."

"What do you want?" Jorah knew without Theon asking that he was looking for an alliance with the Bear Islands and its allies to overthrow Euron Greyjoy. He would appeal based on the Ironborn's timely efforts during the war and he would appeal based on his connections with the Stark's. Jorah knew all this before Theon even opened his mouth to reply and so he added before the younger man could speak, "What would profit us to turn against Euron Greyjoy?"

"Before she died, Yara and I pledged to the Ironborn that we would seek to bring back the old ways. This alliance with the government in the south is in direct violation of those ways. And-"

Jorah interrupted, "The old ways had the Ironborn pillaging and plundering a wall of destruction all along the coast of Westeros, and they even tried for our shores as well." He shook his head, "Why in the hell would I prefer that over what is currently come to bear? Occasional near skirmishes with the more cocksure of the bunch but a more stable and consistent way of things? And no risk of pillaging."

"That's about to change," Erlora spoke up, drawing both sets of eyes to herself. "That is why I'm here." She took a deep breath and after slowly letting it out, spoke rapidly. "There are members in the south who, without government authorization, have used their own coffers to pay the Ironborn to increase their aggression, with the hope that outright attacks will soon be the norm. They hope that with this destabilization that those in the north will come to heel and will join the rest of Westeros and on terms that would be more beneficial to those in the south instead of on equal footing."

Jorah frowned, "You're in favor of this?"

"No, that's why I'm here. This was not sanctioned by the current government."

"But you know who those members are?" Erlora nodded. "So then why don't you deal with the money trail and have done with it? I doubt Euron Greyjoy would find it very profitable to continue in this line without the added monetary incentive."

Erlora shifted on her feet, "I suggested this very thing to my superiors and offered to take care of things myself." Jorah inwardly frowned at the reminder that for all her innocent beauty, Erlora was a trained spy and killer. "But my suggestion was buried beneath a whole slew of other 'concerns of the state,' and I was basically told to sod off for the time being." She shrugged. "I suppose I have less voice now than ever before since it was reported to my superiors that I am in favor of the north remaining separate from the government." Jorah again raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed at her courage to speak out and also that she'd voiced such an opinion in the first place. "I argued that it would profit all parties more to have two separate 'states' that could compete and trade with as it is only with obstacles that we overcome and improve." Erlora's eyes met Jorah's and she smiled. "I think I may be without a job after this."

"I understand your reluctance to support the possible threat against your people," Theon brought Jorah's attention back when he spoke again, "however, I assure you, as things stand now, the Ironborn under my flag are far more interested in paying back those in high towers in the south for jerking us around than they are in stirring up trouble with their neighbors here in the north. I can't make promises that there will never be skirmishes or attempted raids here in the north, but for as long as my flag is highest among the Ironborn, our raids will remain in the south and elsewhere."

Jorah sighed. This was a lot to take in for bath time.

"Very well, I'll bring your petition up with my council and will also write to Lord Commander Snow at the Wall and Lord Stark at Winterfell. As the two most influential men in the north, I would think that they'd like to have a say in this matter. Bear Island alone would be no match for even half of the Ironborn navy; you know that." Jorah waited until both Erlora and Theon nodded before he pointed to the door, "Now, can I finish my bath?"

Theon quickly left, leaving Jorah to wonder where they'd managed to come from and where it was they were going to remain until he made their presence official—if he even did that. Erlora, however, remained. She held out her hand to Jorah and after a moment of stupefied staring, she leaned forward and snatched the towel from his hand. Without further preamble, she soaped up the rag again and set about washing Jorah's neck and back on the side of his body he had a difficult time getting to without both hands. Jorah let her work in silence for a time before he gave in to his own curiosity and broke the silence.

"Why did you come here?"

Erlora snorted, "I told you earlier. I brought the information about-"

"You know what I mean." Jorah reached up and took hold of her hand, temporarily stilling its ministrations against his skin. He glanced at her over his shoulder and waited until she sheepishly dropped her eyes from his questioning stare before he both let go of her hand and spoke again. "Why did YOU jeopardize your position in the government, perhaps even your very safety, to come here to tell us these things? How did you come to be with Theon Greyjoy, and why would you side with him in this matter?" He lowered his voice and let his shoulders relax into her touch, his eyes drifting closed. "Why are you here, Erlora?"

Erlora finished washing his back and neck before she shifted to the side of the tub and began to repeat her actions on his upper chest and shoulders. Jorah was curious how much she would wash, and how much he would let her wash.

"I've done a good job in the south over the past few years. I haven't had to compromise my dignity or morality, which is a first for someone in my line of work, and have up until recently considered myself adequately happy with my circumstances." She made eye contact and smiled good-naturedly. "Of course, I say adequately because you weren't with me and for your own good reasons so I couldn't resent you for that either." Erlora wiped the rag over Jorah's beard to stop him from interrupting. "I spoke truly when I said my superiors have grown increasingly dissatisfied with my work over the past months. They've made more and more petitions for me to go on assignments that remind me of the times in the past when I did have to choose between the lesser of two evils, and I know for a fact that I've been shadowed more than once."

Jorah frowned and spoke through the bubbles, "Do you think they would assassinate you for the things you've said?"

"Once, I could tell you honestly that no, they would not. However, there are so many heads to the creature that is the government now that I can't say for certain anything these days. As the government absorbs more land and more people, those in power grow more bloated with power, and I've been on the receiving end of corrupted power enough to recognize the early signs of decay. When I heard wind of this most recent ploy to take more land and more power from lands uninterested, I decided I wanted nothing more to do with it. The only one of my superiors I knew I could talk to who would not kill me outrightly, and who I felt deserved to know of my 'resignation' was Varys. As he was not involved in this plot, I doubly felt he could be trusted with knowledge of my imminent departure." Erlora picked up Jorah's arm and washed it from shoulder to fingertips. "He surprised me by giving me even more information and supplying me with the necessary documents and means to meet up with Theon and make it here without raising suspicion. It seems that he is still playing as many sides as possible, and is uninterested in having his empire of influence fall to petty bureaucrats."

Jorah nodded, shifting in the tub to offer her his other arm instead of her having to walk around the edge again, "So then do you agree with Theon's mission?"

"Well, I maintain that we, humanity, only grow and advance when we have obstacles. Sometimes we have to return to how things were before to realize that they won't work in the here and now and so we adapt and change and make something new, but on the foundation of the old." Erlora shrugged, setting Jorah's arm down and dunking the rag in the soap covered water. "I do think he believes his Ironborn won't raid the north if he comes to full power. And I think his is the better vision of future for the Ironborn than this current pirate for hire nonsense."

Jorah nodded then, glancing down, he smirked and lifted a foot, "Am I pressing my luck?"

"No," Erlora laughed, "but I expect similar treatment in good time."

Jorah swallowed and nodded. They'd never managed to consummate their reciprocal love and attraction for one another. Gotten damned close more than once, but had never found the time or privacy to complete "the deed." Now that she was back in his life, and seemingly appeared to be without interest in leaving his side any time soon, Jorah hoped that they would finally be able to move forward.

"You look good," Erlora's comment had Jorah's eyes coming open from where he'd unknowingly allowed them to close, "I mean, I like the longer hair and the full beard. It is very distinguished." To punctuate her sentiments, Erlora leaned up and ran her soapy fingers over his trimmed but full beard.

"Lady Lyanna says it makes me look like the grumpy old man that I am and so demanded I keep it until I die." Jorah smiled at the sound of Erlora's chuckle. "The longer hair is more laziness than anything but the beard also serves the practical purpose of protecting my face from the rough north winds when I'm at sea or on patrol along the shorelines."

Erlora nodded, "Then, I will have to grow a beard for the same purpose."

Jorah blinked. He knew she was in jest, so that was not what had him pausing. It was the definitive way she alluded to staying. Before he could question her on that, however, the ambiance and moment of intimacy were both shattered by the untimely arrival of his aunt, Lady Maege. She was still the Head of the House, despite his return and at his insistence. Ultimately, if she chose to throw Erlora and Theon out on their ears for the bears to gnaw on, she could do so and Jorah would have no way of saying otherwise.

"Since when did you employ servant girls to wash your feet, Jorah?" Maege glared at the girl then turned to Jorah. "She's not from around here, is she?"

"No, she's not. I was intending upon speaking to you about her in the morning."

Maege snorted, "And keep her here until then? The reports I've just had incline me to believe that she's in with that Ironborn whelp I just caught lurking in the shadows of the keep."

"Did you kill him?" Erlora stood up, being careful to keep her hands visible and palms up. It seemed she was accustomed instinctively to how one needs to speak to the She-Bear to avoid being devoured.

"Not yet," Maege crossed her arms over her chest, "figured I should speak to the man whose room he snuck out of first before that happened. Suffice it to say, I find myself most intrigued by his presence and now yours."

"Aunt," Jorah spoke up and drew her calculating eyes back to himself, "this is Erlora Naharis. She-"

"Why the hell didn't you say so in the first place, you daft ninny?!" Maege charged the rest of the way across his room and seized hold of Erlora's shoulders before either of them could blink. "I suppose you're the one we have to thank for his loss of hand?"

"Well, I-"

"Aunt, she-"

As both Erlora and Jorah spoke at once, Maege laughed much like a bear might growl and nearly shook Erlora as she did so.

"Nothing to be sad about, my dear. If that's what it took for the gods to bring him back to us bears, then so be it. Was getting damned low around here in the likes of men, what with Jorah and others like him all gone and exiled for stupidity."

"You mean-"

"He wasn't the only idiot who got exiled for transgressing laws around here. Oh, he might have made himself out to be a lone bear in the lot of life, but in reality more than he has done something stupid for an ungrateful woman around here." Maege clapped her arm around Erlora's shoulders and hauled her up against her side, "Come, let's leave this sodding idiot to his cold water and lets you and I get some ale and have a nice, long chat. I have a few other daughters I think would like to meet you as well."

Before Jorah could warn Erlora about his cousins—she'd only met the youngest one back at the Wall—Maege dragged her out of the room with as much gusto as she'd entered. Jorah knew, at least, that his aunt and cousins wouldn't kill either Erlora or Theon tonight. There was no guarantee for either of them come morning, however. Theon could have ended his days for being found without Jorah by his side and if Erlora didn't answer what would undoubtedly be a long and awkward interrogation to their liking, then he would wake up just in time to see the only woman to have returned his affection in the past decade thrown off the tower by the she-bears of his family. At least his aunt was right about one thing, the bathwater was cold.

The Bear and the Maiden Fair: Erlora

It hadn't surprised Erlora that both Jon Snow and Robb Stark had not found very endearing the concept of supporting (another) Greyjoy rebellion that would, if successful, bring back the old ways of ravaging and terrorizing the shores of Westeros. Robb Stark had outrightly refused to commit any resources or direct support to the endeavor but made it clear that any houses along the shorelines of the north who wanted to support were welcome to do so without repercussion from him. After Theon had made an official petition to the council held on Bear Island, and she too made a report of the situation down south—and she was careful not to name names or give out information that wasn't pertinent to this situation—the houses of Reed, Flint, Ryswell, and Glover all immediately chose the threat of Ironborn attacks over the annoyance of what was current: would-be terrorizing and threats of more to come, and all supported by a "false government" in the south. All of those houses had living memories of how the "old ways" had been, and some even felt nostalgia for it—and they'd been the victims of the plundering at that. Their reasons didn't have to make sense to Erlora; however, as what was important was that Theon would have additional resources that would increase the chances of success against his uncle.

The mobilization of resources did not take as long as Erlora had expected, she'd forgotten how quickly Northmen worked when they had determined to do something, and within a month of arriving on Bear Island the battle plan had been laid out, the resources collected and distributed, and the first steps of battle taken. Erlora had not been invited to take part in this naval battle, and neither had she an interest in volunteering. Her stature and training made her more suitable for in clandestine maneuvers, not an outright battle—and the experience of the war still haunted her.

If it had not been Jorah, Erlora would not have survived, and even he had not come out of it unscathed. Erlora still felt a combination of guilt and gratitude whenever her eyes wandered down to the empty place where his arm should be. Lady Maege had chosen to look at his loss as a positive, as had his other she-bear cousins, but Erlora still fought against the guilt.

Jorah had not attempted to have crafted for him a fake arm and hand in the years since losing it and this had not surprised Erlora. Most likely he'd find such a thing more cumbersome and had instead devoted himself to learning new sword practice, trading in his traditional two-handed sword for a one-handed sword, and training with it so often that he was now nearly as good with his non-dominant hand as he'd been with his sword hand, and could deal just as much deathly damage with the one-handed sword as he had with the two-handed.

Erlora popped another berry into her mouth as she sat in the shadows, shamelessly spying on Jorah as he trained with his swordmaster. They were in the training field just outside the earthen works that surrounded Mormont Keep while Erlora sat in the sun's shadow upon the observation tower closest to the field. She'd crawled up here only a few minutes after Jorah had begun his training and had contentedly sat eating the snack she'd stolen from the storeroom—a glob of clotted cream and a few handfuls of berries.

She had nowhere else to be at the moment; in fact, she had nowhere else to go. Erlora had remained on Bear Island, namely because she hadn't quite figured out where the hell she was supposed to go next. Going back south was not an option, not now, and while she could return to the Free Cities and her brother Daario, Erlora didn't quite relish that idea either. Daario had already written her more than once of all the uses he had for her and her training, and it sounded more like a viper nest than home.

Lady Maege had made it quite clear, during the interrogation that had been her first night at Mormont Keep, that so long as she had no ill intentions towards Jorah or anyone else on Bear Island, she was welcome to stay. Lyanna had added, of course, that she had better find a use for herself if she was going to stay because useless people and useless things were often thrown out and destroyed on Bear Island. Erlora adored the youngster's gumption and deeply admired and respected Lady Maege and all her daughters.

As she continued to watch Jorah train, Erlora thought over all the changes she'd seen in him. It seemed that the air and earth of his home island filled him with new vigor and youth, and instead of looking older, as she'd assumed he would, Jorah somehow looked a good deal younger than when she'd last seen him. Erlora found it harder than ever to keep her lecherous hands to herself when around him. Not that Jorah seemed to mind so much, but it had led to more than a few awkward encounters with the rest of his family.

In the brief time she'd been on the island, they'd already given in to their desires more than once. They had been caught first by Jory Mormont. On the third night on the island, after everyone had seemingly adjourned from the evening meal, Jorah had offered to give her an official tour of the keep. Erlora believed he had been in earnest and neither of them had meant to initiate it but, in the process, they'd found a deserted corner of the courtyard near the larder that looked like it needed some spicing up. Jory had emerged from the larder with an after-dinner snack to find Jorah and Erlora pressed against the wall kissing each other as if that was more necessary than breathing to maintain life. The second time it had been Lyra's unfortunate fate to find Jorah and Erlora rolling around in the hay, quite literally, in the stables. They'd come back from a ride together, during which Jorah had shown her a few of the more iconic sights of Bear Island along with a number of the important farming areas that supplied the keep, and in the process of putting away their horses they'd gotten handsy with one another and push and shove later they'd both nearly been about to disrobe when poor Lyra's laugh had them stopping and realizing where they were and also the fact that Lyra's laugh had brought more than a few others to stand by her in the stable doorway. The third time had been just that morning and of the three incidents, it had been the most innocent in Erlora's opinion. Erlora had been helping Jorah carry some scrolls and maps from the archives to the study—Lady Maege, Jorah, and others were going to study them along with more current ones in their efforts against the Ironborn. She'd dropped more than a few and Jorah, as he'd picked them up and placed them back into her arms, had smoothed his hand over her hair, kissed her cheek, and leaned his forehead against hers, seemingly happy to pause in their efforts to share this moment. Lady Maege had been the one to find them, standing in the corridor only a few feet from the study. She'd called Jorah, dismissed Erlora, and that had been the last Erlora had seen of Jorah up until an hour before when she'd spied him charging out to the training field with the swordmaster at his side.

Erlora was curious if Lady Maege had said something to fuel the additional energy that was evident in Jorah's swings and thrusts and audible in his yells and grunts. Or perhaps, it was his own thoughts that had him training so hard. Erlora finished off her snack, brushed the crumbs off her borrowed Bear Island attire—her southern clothes had been far from adequate for the climate here—and stood. Regardless of what Lady Maege had said to Jorah this morning, she intended to have a conversation of her own.

She found the She-Bear in the enclose at the very back of the keep. It was more like a walled-in portion of the wild forest that bordered two of the earthen walls surrounding the keep than it was a garden. In it the Mormont's didn't keep flowers or other such things one might expect of such a place; instead, they kept bears. They did not go out of their way to claim wild bears but only took in those that had been orphaned or injured or had growth issues. They raised the bears like they raised their children and at the moment, they had as many bears in the enclosure as Lady Maege had daughters. Erlora would not be surprised if each daughter had chosen a bear as her pet and thusly named it.

They were not tame bears, not exactly, and had little patience in outsiders visiting their enclosure. This was why Erlora remained on the walkway that was built over the initial portion of the enclosure and spied out Lady Maege wrestling with two of the younger bears. Covered as she was in her own furs, the great Lady looked almost a bear herself; if it weren't for her long grey hair flying about her head as she twisted to and fro, Erlora might not have even picked her out as human.

"Lady Maege," she called out, loathed to interrupt such a precious time for the woman but feeling the necessity of doing so, "Lady Maege," she called again when the woman didn't immediately respond. Erlora waited until the Lady stopped and glared over at her before she spoke again, "I would speak with you."

Lady Maege continued to push at the youthful bears that kept up their playful antics by her feet, "Then come and speak with me."

Erlora gulped. Jorah had warned her not to go into the enclosure under any circumstances. It had taken only one death of a misguided servant to make it clear to everyone that the bears welcomed only Mormonts in their enclosure. Lady Maege looked back to Erlora with challenge clearly written across her face. This was as much a test as any Erlora had been put through, and gods be damned but she wasn't about to fail it. She gave the Lady a curt nod before turning on her heel and marching, as if to her death, back down the walkway, down the stairs, and through the heavy gate of the enclosure. She could see Lady Maege with the two young bears not too far off up the knoll a ways and so set off in that direction.

Lady Maege raised her head to watch Erlora's progression, her face neutral of expression. Only when Erlora noticed a new twitch in Lady Maege's face did she stop. Hearing movement to her left, Erlora turned and saw a large brown bear rise up from behind the bushes. It breathed in her scent, snapped its jaws, then plopped back onto its feet, shoving its way through the foliage. Erlora backed away slowly, keeping her hands visible, and her eyes directly on the bear's face.

"I am a friend." She spoke calmly, much more calmly than she felt. "I mean no disrespect and I have no ill intention." The bear swatted the ground in front of it and began to sway back and forth as it continued to smack its jaws together. "I merely wish to talk to your Lady."

The bear raised up on its hind legs, far taller than Erlora, and let out a loud bellow. Erlora smelled blood on its hot breath and felt some of its spittle fly onto her face and neck. The time for sweet talk was over. Either she ran for her life or she fought back. Knowing that Lady Maege was watching this, that she was allowing this, had Erlora discarding the momentary thought of running. Plus, there was the fact that bears were notoriously fast—Jorah had given her a quick course on bear behavior her first day on the island—and she knew without having to test the theory that the bear could easily take one leap and have her in its jowls. No, she was intent upon living and showing Lady Maege that though small and of another continent entirely, there was more backbone to her than appeared.

"That's what you want?" Erlora yelled back. She moved her foot around until it encountered what she was looking for—a stick. "Fine!" She used her foot to kick the stick into the air just high enough to grab it. It wasn't enormous but it was large enough to be seen as a weapon. She widened her stance and held the stick out in front of her, gripping it with both hands. "If you're going to fight me, fight me!"

The bear bellowed again and this time Erlora screamed back, as loud as she could manage. The bear dropped back to its legs and growled again, slightly less loudly than before, and again Erlora yelled at it, this time stomping her foot and brandishing her stick more aggressively. The bear shook its head back and forth, snapping its jaws. Erlora stomped her foot twice, struck the end of the stick against the ground, and yelled once more. Unlike the bear, she wasn't getting any quieter or less aggressive with her yells. The bear nodded its head up and down, no longer snapping its jaws, and emitted a low groaning noise. Erlora struck the stick against the ground again, made the closest thing to a growling noise as she could muster now that her throat was raw, and shuffled her feet forward. The bear sat down on its haunches and brought both of its front paws up to cover its face. Erlora tipped her head to the side in surprise.

"Ellyn likes to shake down intruders to see what they're made of," Lady Maege's voice, now so close beside her had Erlora startling and dropping the stick. "Dacey named her after Ellyn Ever-Sweet, supposedly the first beekeeper of the First Men." At Erlora's continued look of confusion and surprise, Lady Maege chuckled, "She thought it'd be quaint to name a bear after a beekeeper. They do so love honey, after all."

"Was," Erlora swallowed a few times, finding it hard to speak with her throat near shattered from screaming at Ellyn, "Ellyn ever likely to attack me?"

"Oh yes, quite likely. It was Ellyn who killed the poor servant boy all those years ago. She'd been but a cub at the time, though not much smaller than she is now. Blasted bear has always been too big. Killed her momma in birth because she was too big, in fact." Lady Maege made a show of putting her arm around Erlora's shoulders, making it obvious to the observant bear that Lady Maege was welcoming Erlora to the enclosure. "I think your foolish bravado earned Ellyn's respect. Never seen someone take to a bear quite so quickly as you. How did you know to yell back, and to get a stick?"

Erlora's head swam for a moment. The reality of near-death settling in her stomach. Lady Maege would've been able to do nothing to stop the bear from killing her. Erlora didn't need to question the woman to know that. Based on the bear's size, even if Lady Maege had been armed with a stick herself, if Ellyn had been determined to end Erlora's life, it would've been ended. Lady Maege was looking at her with affection and newfound respect and all Erlora wanted to do was stomp on the woman's foot and smack her across the face for the audacity of nearly killing her by her pet bear. But she was wiser than she was impetuous, mostly, and so kept this ire to herself. Ellyn seemed to be content, for the moment, with Erlora's presence. Best not tempt the beast back into aggression.

"I didn't." Erlora finally spoke. "I just didn't want to give you the satisfaction of watching me run away."

Lady Maege's laughter had the birds in the trees fleeing and even Ellyn seemed to wince before she rolled off her haunches and lumbered back through the bushes from whence she'd come. The woman clapped Erlora so firmly on the back her breath was stolen from her.

"If my nephew doesn't take you for his own soon, by the gods, I'll feed him to Ellyn." Lady Maege wiped away the tears of mirth from her eyes.

Erlora sighed, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Lady Maege raised an eyebrow. "I was hoping you could give me some advice on how to convince him to make this arrangement between us more permanent."

"Meaning," Lady Maege smiled, "marriage?" At Erlora's nod, the woman sobered a bit, "While it is obvious he's taken to your body, what is it you have to offer him or the rest of us in return?"

Erlora had known the woman would ask this and so listed off her qualities as she understood them, "I can fish, I can fight, I am clever, I can read and write, I'm good with puzzles and people, I learn quickly and easily and I fancy that I can teach others fairly well also. I'm young and if you're worried about child-bearing, as far as I know, my mother was very fertile, and while I have one full brother, I've heard tale of over a dozen half-siblings running around Essos."

"Aye, I concur with your self-assessment." Lady Maege leaned closer. "But my real question had to do with whether or not you're willing to put my nephew first in your heart, sacrificing your own happiness for his if need be, and demanding from him his upmost in integrity and honor in return."

Erlora smiled, "You can count on it."

"Very well then." Lady Maege tugged Erlora back towards the knoll where the young bears still rolled around in the dust. "I think I have a few bits of advice for you."