Chapter 11
The North Beckons
Jorah and Robb stood in the stables readying their horses. They would be leaving for White Harbor and Jorah would be continuing on to Hardhome from there. They had barely begun leading their horses out of the stables when a small brown blur ran into the stable and launched itself at their knees. Arya was a small 4-year-old that barely reached the knees of the boys but she held an iron grip on her brothers as she wailed and cried loudly.
Both Robb and Jorah looked at each other and felt guilt wash over them. They had often heard their father talk about the price of duty but this was the first time they had an inkling of what it really meant. Jorah picked up Arya and gave her a hug. The little one was distraught and wrapped herself around Jorah's neck and continued bawling as Robb slowly stroked her back. Between hiccups she kept saying "Jo no go. Ro no go. Stay. Play."
Sansa and Daenerys stood at the door of the stables with Bran hiding behind their legs. Arya was too consumed by her grief to remember her fear of horses but Bran was still scared. Both Sansa and Daenerys had tears in their eyes. Jorah carried Arya and led his horse out of the stable. Sansa and Bran quickly joined Arya in hugging him and Jorah quietly nodded his head towards Daenerys and silently told her to go say her farewells to Robb. Daenerys felt blood rush to her ears and neck as a small smile grew and she nodded to Jorah in thanks.
As Jorah promised to send gifts and toys to each of his siblings, Daenerys walked up to Robb. There was a moment of awkwardness between the two that had become almost habitual when the two were left alone. Most often due to schemes orchestrated by Jorah. The two teens avoided eye contact for a few moments but when their eyes met, both of them forgot the awkwardness and rushed towards each other and hugged. Daenerys quietly whispered, "Come back to me, Robb Stark. You owe me a wedding."
Robb whispered back just as quietly, "Nay my queen. I owe you so much more than that. I promise I will come back and we will rule together."
They two broke apart and Daenerys took out a long purple ribbon. She untied his vambrace and slipped the ribbon underneath and tied it around his forearm. "I know this is a custom of the Seven but carry this as a reminder of me. And if you want to be too much of a Northman, then consider it a promise of untold pain if you even think about any girl but me. Remember, I made Roose Bolton flinch as a ten name days old," she said as she tied the vambrace back together with a bit more force than necessary.
Robb instinctively flinched as he smiled at her. "I wouldn't even dream of it, my Queen."
Daenerys smiled and quickly rose on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. "Stay safe, Iceman."
"Anything for you, my Queen," Robb said with a smile.
As the two boys led their horses into the main yard of the castle, it seemed as if the entirety of the Winterfell household had come to bid them both farewell. Bran and Arya were sitting on top of the horses as Jorah and Robb walked alongside them. Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn both stood near the gate to say their farewells. Lady Catelyn had tears in her eyes at seeing her firstborn leave home. She had privately disagreed with sending Robb away at such a young age but she understood it was the way of the North and accepted it reluctantly.
Robb was quickly wrapped up in a hug by Lady Stark and Lord Stark had a moment to speak with Jorah. "Are you sure about Hardhome? Queen Crown would be safer and you still will be able to learn from Boodraven," Lord Stark asked quietly. Bloodraven's existence was a secret guarded closely by the Starks and would stay so until Jorah was ready to take his place.
"Yes my Lord. Crowsfood says he has found a dozen wargs already. They need to be taught and will prove to be invaluable for the North. And Bloodraven has been growing weaker for some time now. His body is more Weirwood than human and his powers are weakening. The third eye needs a new host and I need to learn as much as I can from him," Jorah said, with a determined glint in his eye.
"Very well. I promised your mother I would keep you safe. Do not make an oathbreaker of me."
"Don't worry father. I promise I won't do anything stupid," Jorah said.
"I'll pay you a dragon if you can say that to anyone here and they don't laugh," Lord Stark said with a raised brow.
Jorah smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. Robb, Daenerys and Jorah had terrorized Winterfell as kids with their prank wars and schemes. Ned had been forced to repair the Broken Tower after the trio had broken into it repeatedly. The outer walls of the keep had been scrubbed clean of moss due to the trio's tendency to scale the walls of the keep every night in order to break into each other's rooms.
Robb and Jorah eventually said their farewells to each member of the household. They tried to pay the cooks and maids a gold dragon each as compensation for their repeated breaking into the kitchens. However, they were instead rewarded with slaps to the backs of their heads and told to keep their coin. Fond smiles and tears adorned every face as the two boys led the party of fifty guards and left for White Harbor.
Robb and Jorah were setting up the tent for the night when a raven flew over them and cawed "Raid! Raid!" The two looked at each other for a moment and immediately began arming themselves. They quickly and quietly moved through the men and alerted them to the incoming attack. Weapons were unsheathed and kept close at hand but were hidden so as to look unprepared. Robb and Jorah both moved to opposite ends of the camp to act as lookouts. They had chosen a clearing in the Wolfswood to set up camp as the large campfire would keep wild animals away from the camp. However, it provided some cover for ambush. Had they been unprepared, they would have been caught unprepared but having Bloodraven as a spymaster was a boon.
The main campfire was lit and it provided ample light in the fading sunlight. Eyes darted around the woods as night fell. Robb had planned on hunting fresh meat but in light of a possible attack, sending out a hunting party was unwise. The packs of smoked meats were opened and the men took turns to eat by the fire hurriedly.
Jorah warged into an owl and flew around the woods. The entire camp was surrounded by almost four dozen men and were being led by a man on a horse. They seemed to be waiting for everyone to sleep and ambush them in their sleep. Jorah suddenly noticed a low growl coming from a thicket nearby. The owl's instincts would not let Jorah fly anywhere close to it. It was almost past midnight when the attack began. Two arrows shot out through the woods at the guardsmen but they were alert enough to avoid a fatal strike.
A few dozen men were already charging out of the tree line assuming that the guardsmen had been killed. Swords were quickly pulled out of their hiding places and the fight began in earnest. The attackers were dressed in furs and had no armor for defense and were quickly killed by the Stark men. Jorah and Robb fought alongside the men and killed a couple men each. Suddenly out of nowhere, a giant black Direwolf the size of a war horse charged into the clearing and attacked a few of the wildlings. It tore off the heads of three men before anyone realized what had happened. Robb looked at Jorah and asked, "Is it with you?"
Jorah shook his head and the two brothers moved towards the wolf. Their men could handle the raiders. They let their wolfsblood flood them and the fight around them slowed down. The wolf suddenly stopped attacking anyone in its reach and turned its attention towards them. The fur on its back and tails stood firm as it growled a deep rumble that was felt more than heard by every man in the clearing. Robb and Jorah snarled in response. The fight around them died down as attackers suddenly retreated. All focus was turned to the Direwolf but no one was willing to engage the massive beast.
Jorah and Robb were feeling the effects of the Wolfsblood and their instincts screamed at them to prove themselves the Alpha. The Direwolf's bright grey eyes glinted in the firelight. Robb and Jorah moved to opposite sides of the wolf and attacked simultaneously like they did their father a few days ago. The Wolf however, jumped back and escaped the trap.
Robb felt anger flood through him but his mind maintained control. He looked towards Jorah and said, "Watch my back. I'm going to try and warg into its mind."
Jorah nodded and Robb let his Wolfsblood flow out and calmed his mind to warg into the Direwolf. The Wolf noticed the momentary weakness and charged. Just for a brief moment, Jorah hesitated before charging at the wolf and shoving his shoulder into the Direwolves side. The Wolf was knocked off course and sent skidding. However, Robb's eyes had gone completely white and a mental fight began alongside the physical.
Robb's mind fought with the Direwolves for domination. The Direwolf shook his head and Jorah charged at him. He quickly stepped to the right side of the wolf and jumped onto its back and tried to get his arms around the wolf's neck to choke him. Killing the wolf while Robb was in its mind would hurt Robb as well so Jorah chose to instead choke the Direwolf into unconsciousness. This would weaken the wolf's mind and allow Robb to escape into his own body in time.
The Direwolf lashed out at both of them and bucked against the pressure. It was an ace predator with none to challenge its might. It would not submit without a fight to either of them. However, it could not last forever against the stubborn hardheadedness that both Jorah and Robb possessed in spades. And eventually accepted defeat and went still. Robb and the Direwolf came to an understanding and Jorah released the pressure on its neck as he felt the wolf relax. The Direwolf sat where it was and bowed it's head to both Jorah and Robb in deference.
The silence of the night was cut by a neigh and the sound of a horse galloping in the distance and the men relaxed slightly. The nervous air that had hung around the camp was not helped by the giant wolf's presence. Jorah warged into the owl and followed the retreating bandits for some distance while Robb fed the Direwolf with some meat.
The camp stayed vigilant and the men increased the guard rotations to keep them fresh and alert through the night. However, as dawn broke over the forest, sighs of relief were exhaled throughout the camp. Robb however was still troubled. The two boys examined the bodies of the slain men and thoughts raced in their minds.
Jorah knelt next to a fallen man and said, "They're dressed as wildlings would, but no wildling could travel all this way south."
"So it's made to look like wildlings are attacking. But why?" Robb asked.
"If the wildlings succeeded in killing the Heir to the North, it would spark a war across the Wall," Jorah said.
"Mance Rayder, perhaps? Although he was more likely to attack Hardhome."
"Aye. If the Northmen were to attack the Freefolk, Crowfood and the Northmen at Hardhome would be killed and all the Freefolk would join Mance's side," Jorah said.
"Aye. We must hurry to White Harbor. We need more men than this to travel safely. Maybe stay only in holdfasts from now on," Robb said
"Aye. I always knew you'd get me killed, but I didn't think it would be this soon." Jorah joked.
"Har-de har har. You'd make a fine royal fool, if you weren't one already," Robb snarked back with a laugh.
Jorah punched him in the arm and said, "Well wouldn't it be a sight to see, a Master of Whispers who was also a fool. You'd be remembered forever for having such a unique man in your small council, Your Grace," Jorah mocked and the two began laughing again. "What are you planning to do about the Direwolf?"
"Send him to father perhaps. The wolf was protecting his mate. She is heavy with pups and they are the last of their packs. They can stay in the Godswood." Robb said.
"Lady Stark and Arya are going to be so happy," Jorah said dryly. Robb laughed in agreement. Both were quietly glad they would not have to endure the chaos that would descend on Winterfell.
The party soon made their way to White Harbor with haste as none wished to spend another night with the risk of an ambush. Their travels were uneventful and both wolves made it to White Harbor ahead of schedule.
Jorah and Robb had some time before the ship was scheduled to leave the docks for Hardhome. The two decided to visit Wolf's Den and explore the ruins of the fabled castle of the Greystarks. They also wished to see the dragon eggs hidden by their father in the caves underneath the fortress turned prison. Robb wanted to gift Daenerys with dragon eggs from the very day his father had told him what he had done at the end of the Rebellion. The two wolves had to disguise themselves as nobody was supposed to know where the caves were.
Wendel Manderly led the small skiff into the sea facing caves and would wait with the boat. He was a large, loud boisterous man but not as large as his father or brother. His large walrus-like moustache bounced as he laughed and the two boys entertained him with stories of their pranks during their ride to the Wolfs Den. By the time they had landed, Wendel Manderly had his face flushed red with laughter and waved the boys off as they made their way into the cave.
The caverns were ominously dark and silent. The walls were caked with salt from the sea spray and their footsteps echoed ominously. The dark cave led them to a large open cavern with a freshwater lake inside the cavern. The dragon eggs were stacked near the far end of the walls and almost looked like a pile of rocks and would be easily dismissed as worthless. But Jorah could feel their draw and directly headed towards them.
There were about a hundred dragon eggs in the pile and Jorah could feel the warmth they emanated.
"They're alive" He breathed. "Robb, do you feel their warmth?"
"No. It must be your Valyrian blood calling to them."
"Perhaps. It is odd. I always thought Aegon the Unlikely was a fool for trying so hard to hatch dragons. It led to Summerhall, Duskendale and the Mad King. But now I understand the desire to see them take to the skies. Breathe fire."
"Jon. Control. Do not forget." Robb said firmly with a note of warning in his voice.
Jorah was broken out of his trance and he noticed he had moved the torch too close to his furs and was about to set himself on fire.
"Sorry. I don't know what came over me." Jorah apologized.
"You know Ice. Dragons are Fire magic. Looks like you need to study both." Robb said.
"Maybe. Dany taught me about the glass candles and the Valyrian magic she knew. But this felt different. More primal. Almost like the Wolfsblood but still not."
"Dragons are fire made flesh. You should learn to control this like we do the Wolfsblood. Maybe you and Dany can learn to use fire magic and figure out how to hatch them. Perhaps, dragons act as reservoirs and conduits of Valyrian magic like Weirwoods do for ours." Robb contemplated.
"Aye. Some of these feel stone cold though. The temperatures of the North probably killed them. They need warmth." Jorah said as he ran his hands across the eggs worriedly.
"Perhaps the hot springs underneath Winterfell? Dany can watch over them and keep them alive." Robb suggested.
"Aye. But it'll have to be discreet. This is the largest cache of dragon eggs outside of Dragonstone."
"Don't worry brother. We can send the eggs surrounded by rocks that look like it. I'm sure we could have them sent for repairs in the caves. Perhaps some marble and sandstone to make it believable. We could even have some bricks removed from fallen walls of the prison. I'm sure I'll find a way to get them to Dany."
Jorah couldn't help but smile. "Aye. One kiss and you gift her a hundred dragon eggs. What will you gift her on your wedding night?"
"A Kingdom and a crown would do, don't you think?" Robb said smugly.
"Aye. If you want to survive the night. But if you want to see the dawn, you need to do so much more." Jorah said with a laugh as Robb paled.
Robb needed to change the topic desperately and took the first option he could find. "Are you taking a dragon egg?"
"Huh? No. This is the property of the Targaryen family. Dany should have it."
"If Dany was here, I'm pretty sure she'd be ripping you a new asshole. Get it through your thick skull. You are our brother. Take a damn egg and figure it out how to hatch it. And you are a Targaryen just as much as Dany is. No. Shut up."
Jorah snapped his mouth shut as he was about to interfere. Robb continued, "You are just as much Stark as you are Targaryen. Just as much Fire as Ice. And if you insist on acting like an idiot, my first act as King of Winter will be to make you a Stargaryen."
"I hate that name. Fine. I'll take an egg" Jorah grumbled half-heartedly.
"Good. Take the one that you haven't stopped touching since you saw it. It's calling to you." Robb said with a smile.
Jorah then looked down and noticed he had been running his hands across a bone white dragon egg with light blue streaks in it. The egg was warmest to his touch and Jorah could almost hear a heartbeat in the egg that beat alongside his own. Jorah took off his scarf and tied it across the egg and placed it around his shoulders. His cloak hid the egg and the two wolves made their way out of the cave. The dragon eggs were quietly moved into the hot springs of Winterfell as Jorah made his way north to Hardhome.
Time passed as Jorah and Robb began their training away from home. Robb learned the intricacies of trade as well as cunning necessary for politics from Wyman Manderly. His granddaughters Wylla and Wynafred Manderly both made attempts to woo Robb but were forced to give up when Robb showed no interest in them. Robb instead treated them as he would his sisters, whom he dearly missed. Robb was also trained to sail and command ships on the water by Wendel Manderly. He was a quick learner and was soon given command of his own fleet to track down and fight pirates based out of the Three Sisters.
The Three sisters were officially under the command of the Vale but were too far away from the Eyrie to maintain any control. Repeated letters to Jon Arryn went unanswered and the problem of the Three Sisters grew worse with help from Littlefinger. Robb grew to resent Jon Arryn's inaction and vowed to deal with the problem at its root someday. However, he took to killing pirates with a vengeance.
However, one day he encountered a large ship flying the colors of Volantis. It was unlike a Volantene ship to make such a journey North. Neither the North nor Braavos were particularly friendly towards places that dealt with slaves. Robb decided to investigate but wished to keep his ships safe.
The ships pulled alongside each other as both ships flew their flags of truce. The captain was a large man with a scar running along his face. He called out in the Common Tongue and asked, "Ahoy there! What business you have there?"
"I am Lord Robb Stark of House Stark of Winterfell. What business does a Volantene ship wish to conduct in these waters?" Robb yelled back.
"We bring cargo do trade. Cloth and spice."
"Do you have slaves on your ships?" Robb asked
Suddenly another man burst onto the deck and began screaming in Valyrian. He was decked out in fine silks and jewels adorned his rings and necklaces. The scarred man talked to the man in Valyrian and after a few minutes of negotiations, the man went back into the cabin.
"We no have slaves. White Harbor safe?" The man yelled back.
"Aye. It is safe for you. Go forth and trade. You shall not be disturbed." Robb yelled back.
Robb saw the ships move away from him and said to his First Mate, "Send word to White Harbor. Treat with them in peace. But have them followed after they leave."
"Why Captain? They are a trading vessel?"
"Aye. That they are. But the man who spoke in Valyrian was a slaver and he wanted to get to the shivering sea as soon as possible. The only reason to go there but not Hardhome is because they are slavers." Robb said.
"Why not attack them right away then?"
"Because the punishment comes after the crime. And we will be waiting for them in the Bay of Seals." Robb said with a bloodthirsty smile
The black Direwolf and its mate were welcomed by Lord Stark and stayed in the Godswood. Just as Jorah had predicted, Arya was ecstatic and had to be restrained constantly from disturbing the Direwolves. She talked of little else but the pup she wanted to raise as a pet. Lady Stark on the other hand was absolutely terrified of the Direwolves and refused to have any of her children near any of them.
The black Direwolf was named Midnight and the mother was named Luna by Lord Stark. He was the only person that was allowed to approach them. Midnight and Eddard had a tense introduction but Eddard proved to be strong enough mentally for Midnight to accept him as the Alpha of the pack.
Luna however, was far more ruthless in her inspection and earning her trust turned out to be more of a challenge for Lord Stark. It took him almost a month to earn the right to be in her vicinity. Daenerys on the other hand, was accepted easily by the Direwolves. Sansa had taken over Jorah's role in teasing and had proposed the idea that because Robb was the one who tamed them, Daenerys was given special status as his mate. The tickling she received in retaliation echoed throughout the keep that day.
Midnight however became the Talk of the North. He would often disappear for days on end for his hunts but he also began accompanying Lord Stark in court. The Direwolf was also proven to be a good determiner of truth. Every time someone tried to lie in his presence, he would growl and raise his hackles. The sight and sound was so terrifying that the liar would often blurt out the truth due to pure primal fear striking at their very hearts.
It was only a matter of time before Arya managed to break the confines set by Lady Stark and snuck her way into Luna's den. By the time someone noticed she was missing, she had already made her way to Luna and Lord Stark ran towards the Godswood just in time to see his youngest daughter warg into Luna. However, Arya had not warged into Luna but into the little wolf pup next to her. The little girl's desire for a companion overrode all her desires and the two bonded at a primal level. Luna also understood what was happening and began treating Arya like one of her pups.
From that day forth, Eddard Stark would credit every single one of his white hairs to his youngest daughter. But that would only last until Bran discovered his love for climbing walls.
Meanwhile in the North, Jorah was going through hell. From the very moment he stepped into Hardhome he had been ridiculed and mocked for being too pretty and southern. Nobody was willing to listen to his suggestions or ideas regardless of their merit. It was only when he began using his sword that the Freefolk began paying him any attention. But regardless of how many fights he won in the yard, he did not receive the respect he thought he would get. The same process had been repeated for nearly three months until Mors Umber took pity on him.
"Snow. Follow me." Mors led him to a clearing next to the stone walls of the city. He handed him a knife and sat him down next to the wall.
"You're going to fail."
"Why? I don't get it. What more do I need to do?" Jorah asked, frustrated.
"You fight with rules. You fight with patterns. You don't use dirty tricks to win. You don't fight to win with desperation like they do. What the Freefolk see is a boy playing at fighting. One who doesn't know the thirst and desperation needed to survive. And how could you, you have lived in a castle warmed by fire? You don't know hunger like they do. You're a warg but you have no familiar. All it screams to them is you don't know what you are."
"I know what I am. Eddard Stark's bastard."
"That word has no meaning here. Beyond the wall there is no inheritance. There is only survival. Trueborn or Bastard doesn't mean shit here. Live or Die. That is all. Why did you come here?"
"To learn how to be a warg and greenseer. To grow stronger. Help Robb rule."
"That is why you fail. All of that is built on the idea that you will be safe. That you will live. That you will have a warm bed to return to. Medicines to help you recover. You still think of returning back south of the Wall. When I got here me and my men fought tooth and nail for everything with everyone. Nothing is given to you. You have to earn it. You act like you are owed respect. No more. Take that knife, and climb over the wall. I will wait for you at the gates in two weeks but I don't want to see you till then."
Jorah was shocked. Mors Umber was his father's bannerman and he was essentially handing him a death sentence. Jorah sat stupefied and was about to protest when Mors drew his sword.
"MOVE", he yelled.
Jorah jumped and scrambled his way to the wall. The wall protecting Hardhome was the first thing built when the Northmen landed. It was twenty-five feet high and made of hard rock. There were many places to grab hold and climb but the cold and ice made the climb much harder. Jorah made it to the top of the wall and was forced to climb down gradually. He was half way down the wall when he slipped and fell the rest of the way. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled with catching his breath for a good ten minutes.
By the time he caught his breath his mind raced. His blood was boiling with anger. Mors Umber had sent him to die in the wilds but he vowed to come back and make him pay for trying to kill him. Jorah had nothing but his furs and the knife. His dragon egg could have provided him warmth but it was safely behind the walls of Hardhome. He picked himself up and hobbled his way to a tree. Water, fire and food had become priorities. Luckily, he had trained with Robb and Dany and knew how to throw knives. Hopefully he could hunt something and use its fur to stay warm. He grit his teeth and began walking into the forest.
Behind the walls, Mors solemnly looked at the wall and said, "Kill the boy Jorah Snow, kill the boy and let the man be born."
Jorah knew he would not survive the two weeks in the wild. Magic was the only tool he had left. He warged into an owl and scouted his surroundings. He decided to head north because the closest source of freshwater was the Antler River and it would also allow him to hunt for food. However, he had underestimated just how far it was. The sun began to set and the woods seemed to come alive. Jorah decided to shove some snow in his mouth every time he felt thirsty. The brain freeze hurt but his thirst was satisfied. He decided to sleep on a tree so he would not be attacked in the middle of the night, however, this proved to be a difficult task as the branches were high up and there was no support to climb.
Luckily the Old Gods seemed to have blessed him and he found a white Weirwood with a face carved in it. The Tree had many branches and there was a nice comfortable canopy formed in the branches. It would not be comfortable by any means, but it would do for the night. Jorah grew to regret that decision during the course of the night as the wind blew through the trees and the chill grew worse.
The next morning, he decided to hunt. His stomach panged with hunger and he was growing weak. He warged into the owl and made it land next to him. Jorah grabbed the owl as soon as he warged out of it and ate it raw. He hated every moment of it but the bird was fresh and had some meat on it. He made it to the river and drank some water to wash the taste of blood out of his mouth. However, the taste lingered.
The river was full of fish and Jorah felt a sadistic amount of joy while throwing his knife into them to catch a fish. He managed to kill a few fish but hated its raw taste. Building a fire was the next task but the wood would not smoke even after a solid hour of rubbing them together. Jorah grew frustrated but the stick broke and stabbed his hand. Anger and frustration boiled in every cell of his being as he pulled the stick out of his hand. He angrily threw the wood into the pile of firewood and began muttering in anger. Words from the common tongue blended with the Old tongue and Valyrian as he ranted and raved.
Suddenly the pile of firewood exploded in a fireball and shocked Jorah. He started at it dumbfounded for a solid minute before he scrambled together to build a fire. Understanding could wait until his stomach was full and he was warm. Jorah cooked the fish and greedily ate them. He did not notice that he had shoved his hand in the fire multiple times in his haste.
His hunger was soon sated and he sat warming his hands by the fire. He suddenly noticed the burnt furs on his wrist smoking. His mind raced and he slowly pushed his hand towards the fire. The flames tickled and shared their warmth to his hand but did not burn him. He put both his hands into the fire and laughed loudly when they did not burn.
But suddenly the fire started growing in size and spreading. The flames licked around and almost seemed desperate for fuel. Jorah quickly withdrew his hands and scrambled backwards to save his furs from catching a flame. He kept staring into the fire and muttered to himself, "Fire and Blood."
