Hello friends, fans and critics, and welcome back to Blood in the South. Happy to see you supporters of the north giving reviews and you newcomers liking this work. With any luck from the Old Gods, I'll keep this going strong and improving as I do. Enjoy this next chapter and remember, except Joran, I OWN NOTHING!

Book 1: Blood in the South

Chapter 4: Surprises

Joran

Opening his eyes, Joran, his head feeling like there was a blacksmith in it, beating away at his anvil with a hammer, inspected his surroundings. It was midday, he was propped up against the trunk of a tree in an unfamiliar forest. Slowly rising up from his position, using the trunk to support him and climb up from the ground, Joran shook his body free of the evening and morning dew before taking a moment to take a proper look around.

Capable of seeing Winterfell from where he was standing, Joran figured he must have walked a good ways into the woodland surrounding the castle before finding himself a quiet place to sleep. And, to his relief, it appeared as though he hadn't killed anything in his drunken stupor on his way to the spot. Unluckily for him though, Joran was stiff from sleeping against a tree and cold from being out in one of the cold evenings The North was known for unprotected.

Figuring he might as well start warming himself up by walking back to Winterfell, Joran had started his trek back to the castle. Driven to move quickly through the brush at the prospect of a warm fire, the northman soon emerged from the treeline to come face to face with the stone walls of the fortress. Looking up to the sky to check the position of the sun through the grey clouds, Joran figured that he was at the north eastern portion of Winterfell. Guessing that the North Gate was the closest entrance, he started following the wall northwards.

Before he had made it five strides however, Joran heard something behind him. Looking over his shoulder towards the movement, he beheld a familiar sight. A silver furred direwolf pup.

Moving back the way he had come towards the pup, Joran scanned his surroundings to try and find sight of the pup's owner, Bran. Strangely enough, the lad was nowhere to be found, and that unsettled the young Mormont somewhat.

"Hey there boy," Joran called out to the pup.

Turning to the sound of his voice, the pup barked and ran towards him.

Kneeling down to meet the little animal, Joran petted it and as it anxiously licked his hand, he checked again to see if Bran was nearby. When he didn't see anyone again, he looked down to the pup and asked him, "where's your friend, eh?"

Speeding away from him to where it had been before, the pup looked up, then back at Joran and barked, then back up to the sky.

Moving over to the little direwolf, Joran followed its eyes to where it was looking. What it was looking at was an old tower that looked like it had seen too many winters, and probably should've fallen down by now, but it was still standing. Appearing as defiant as any other northman against the cold of the region.

Finding the sight rather unremarkable, Joran soon figured out why the direwolf was so interested in it. There was a window, near the top of the tower, and in it, stood what looked to be Bran Stark.

"What's he doing," Joran said to himself as he noticed that the boy's body language looked as though he was holding on to the sides of the window, in a very tense position. Then, looking down to the pup, he asked it, "lad must be quite the climber to get all the way up there, huh."

The pup barked again and whined anxiously in response.

Turning his attention back upwards to the top of the tower, Joran then saw a shape falling down towards him. Barely able to react in time, he lifted his arms to catch the boy, only, when the body of Bran Stark hit him, he hit Mormont hard in the chest, which knocked him to the ground where he then hit his head hard, leading him to know only darkness.

…

His vision changing from black to white, Joran found himself alone and face down in snow. Shaking his head to try and get the stuff out of his eyes and hair, he pushed himself up to his feet. Looking around him, Joran found himself once again in the never-ending snowstorm that had plagued been plaguing his dreams.

The cold winds biting into him, Joran folded his arms against his torso in an attempt to conceal some of his body heat. Regardless of this attempt though, he still shivered miserably.

"Why can't I ever fucking come here in a coat or something," Joran asked himself as he took in his garb of a plain shirt, now wet, and pants, also wet. Forcing himself to trudge barefoot through the tundra without a clue as to where he was going, the young Mormont knew that he had to keep moving if he wanted to survive this nightmare.

Considering it uncanny that he should be experiencing the same dream two days in a row, Joran wondered which Gods he'd pissed off to keep on experiencing such a wintery hell such as this.

Before he could start guessing answers however, Joran came to hear the all too familiar sound of a voice on the wind.

"Joran…"

Checking his surroundings and failing to find where the speaker of his name was, Joran shouted into the wind, "all right you son of a bitch, come out where I can see you. I am tired of playing these fucking games!"

"Joran."

Hearing the voice more clearly now, Joran turned towards it and saw a small shadow flapping towards him through the storm.

Believing that the thing struggling towards him was the speaker he had been trying so hard to find, Joran, crazy as it seemed to him, smiled evilly. "There you are."

Then, gripped with a madness that only he knew of, Joran charged through the wind and snow towards the thing. Whether he was going to save it or strangle it, he didn't know. Joran just had to get to it.

"Joran!"

…

"Joran?"

"Hrrgh!" Joran startled awake, his hands flailing through the air for reasons he didn't know, only to find that he was only reaching up towards the stone ceiling of a room. Laying his arms back down, he looked around to find that he was back inside Winterfell, in his aunt Maege's room of all places, with the room's occupant sitting beside him in a chair. Before Joran could wonder how or why he was there, the memories of what had happened to him flooded back into his skull like a river.

"Bran? Bran!" Joran said loudly before attempting to rise.

"Calm down, calm down, boy." Maege said, rising from her seat to lay a calming hand on her nephew before he could get very far out of the bed.

"Where is the boy? Is he alright?" Joran asked.

"Yes, yes, he's perfectly fine no thanks to you, now lay down before you hurt your head some more."

"I have to…er." In his attempt to get up, Joran felt a flash of pain through his skull that rendered him helpless to the will of his aunt. Laying back down, he looked at Maege and, rather than continue to protest his need to see how Bran was, instead asked, "how long have I been out?"

"A day and a night, so not too long," Maege answered before returning to her chair.

"That long?"

"Aye."

"And you've been with me the entire time?"

"You know I have, Joran."

Offering his aunt, a small smile through his beard, Joran said to her, "thank you, I appreciate it aunt Maege."

"It's all part of the job," Maege said with a smile of her own. "No matter how big you get, you'll always be that little bundle of fur I always used to hold in my arms."

Feeling warm on the inside by Maege's words, Joran, not one to dwell too long on familial happiness when there was grim news to be heard, asked his aunt, "what happened, how did I end up here in your room?"

"Where to begin," Maege said thoughtfully now that she was sure that Joran wasn't going to try get up again. "For starters I suppose, its safe to say that you had been missed by the King. After the feast, I'm surprised he wanted to see you after what you told him. He wanted you to join him and the other northern lords on the hunt the morning after the feast, so, we sent men to look for you."

"No doubt he wanted to try and see me hunt like a real bear, huh?"

"I wouldn't say a bear, but pretty much. Anyway, what the men ended up finding was a silver direwolf pup that lead them to you and Bran, unconscious and right for dead."

"You should know by now not to count me out too quickly, Maege."

"Oh, believe me I didn't. Everyone else did though. And with the boy in the same boat as you the way you two were on the ground, gods the fright it gave Cat seeing her boy like that."

"How well is he? Really?" Joran, though he barely knew the child, felt the need to know if him catching the falling boy had made any difference in his well-being.

"Alive and fine like I said before, lad," Maege answered. "He's still unconscious, but from what the Maester of Winterfell has been able to let on to everyone, if you hadn't been there, Brandon would have been far worse for wear. The old man even goes so far to assume that the lad could've died or become a cripple if you hadn't let him use your body as a pillow."

"Heh, not the best pillow I suppose, but one all the same," Joran said while rubbing his head only to find a rather large goose egg buried in his hair at the back.

"Anyhow, once we found you, I got four lads to carry you to bring you up to my room so I could keep an eye on you."

"Hm, just like a bear and a cub, eh."

"You're damn right," Maege said before giving Joran's leg a swat with her hand. "You gave me quite the fright you did. Eyes closed and your body all sprawled out like you got hit in the face with a war hammer. I never thought to ever see you looking like that, and by the gods you ever look like that again, I am going to hang you up by your toes until their ripped off."

"I'll have to keep that in mind, next time I see wolves fall from the sky," Joran said before the door to Maege's room started to open to admit someone.

That someone was an elderly man in grey robes that looked rather old on the wearer, with a chain about his neck, marking him out to Joran as being the Maester of House Stark.

"Ah," the Maester said with kind surprise. "I see that one of my patients has finally woken up. I trust that your rest was pleasant?"

"As pleasant as it could've been, given the circumstances," Joran answered.

"How are you feeling," the Maester asked.

"Body feels good," Joran answered. "Head could use a little bit more help though."

"I would suspect as much," the Maester said before approaching the bed. Then, much to Joran's surprise, when he was standing over him, he didn't give any kind of distasteful expression towards the younger man's face as he rested a gentle hand on his head. Which ended up causing a headache to shoot through Mormont's skull. "You are quite the specimen, master Mormont. If any normal man had tried to do what you did for Brandon, then you would've had quite the bad day. Luckily for you though, you were blessed with a thick skull and a stout form."

Glad to see someone can call a curse a blessing. Especially when it isn't theirs, Joran thought ruefully before saying plainly, "thank you for the compliment, Maester, ehm…"

"Lewin," the older gentleman said as he removed his hand from Joran's scalp, much to the younger man's relief. "I think that a few more days of bed rest could do you some good, master Joran. I can give you some herbs and lotions to help with the swelling on your head and milk of the poppy to help you sleep if you find it difficult with your injury."

"I think that I would appreciate some of those herbs, Maester Lewin," Joran said, feeling that he might as well if he wanted to get out of bed fast enough to head north.

"Some small comfort can be provided for you, ser," Lewin said with a kind smile. "If you could just wait a moment and I'll fetch some of the remedies for you."

"That would sound lovely, thank you," Joran said returning the man's smile.

Once Maester Lewin had left the room, Joran's mind began to wonder for a time, until a thought came to him. Something he had quite frankly forgotten about since the feast.

"Maege," Joran said. "Has the wildling been taken care of since I've been out?"

"Aye, I've had the guards take care of your pet until you were well," Maege said with little hint of emotion towards the subject of Osha. "Which reminds me, you weren't in your room when the King sent men to find you for the hunt."

"That's because I didn't go back to my room when I left the feast," Joran said honestly.

"Really? Where did you go then?"

"To the forest north east of the castle for some peace and quiet," Joran answered plainly

"Well, sounds like you had a cold night," Maege said with some surprise. "Glad that you weren't found as an icicle."

"Aye," Joran said, thankful for the sentiment himself.

Before Maege could say anything more, Maester Lewin returned with his medicine and with him, Eddard Stark.

"My Lord," Joran said in greeting.

"I advised Lewin to inform me when you were awake," Eddard said as he approached Joran's bed. "Told him I'd have words with you when you were."

Before Joran could say anything else, the older man laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You saved my son," Eddard said, his voice seemingly light as the words left his mouth.

"I was only lucky enough to be there at the right moment, my Lord," Joran said honestly.

"Doesn't matter. I misjudged you when we first met, and for that, the Gods thought to humble me. And, instead of standing by allowing Their punishment to befall on my family, you saved my son from death or worse when he fell." Eddard's eyes seemed different from the first time they had looked upon Joran. Rather than being as cold and hard as ice, they seemed to look kindly on the deformed boy. "And I'll owe you for that until my dying day. Anything you want, whenever you want, if it is within my power, you'll have it."

"I – I don't know what to say, my Lord." Joran in truth did..

"You don't have to say anything until you need to, lad," Eddard said, giving Joran's shoulder a fond squeeze before releasing it. "And from here on out, call me by my name. Eddard or Ned as everyone else does."

"Alright…Eddard," Joran said before the Lord of Winterfell stepped out of the room.

"Well," Maege said after she was sure that Eddard was well away from hearing them. "My congratulations to you nephew. It's a mighty thing to have the Warden of the North in your debt."

"I'm half tempted to let the debt lie," Joran said, a little baffled by such circumstances. "A noble man like that appreciating anything I do, even if it is good, is a little scary to think about."

"Why's that," Maege asked, a little surprised by her nephew's words.

Joran said nothing, but he thought to himself, he's seen my face. No doubt Eddard believed that I was the monster from the stories he had heard about me before I even arrived here, and he would be right to think so still. The fact that he may think me a hero now for saving his son, is too strange for me to admit. Because I know that, I'm no hero.

"Eddard Stark is one of the most noble of men," Lewin spoke up when Joran remained silent. "But, as right as you may feel to release him of his debt, it may seem disrespectful to deny him any chance to repay such a deed as yours. Even if it was intentional or accidental."

Taking a moment to consider it, Joran decided to keep such a debt and said, "all right, I suppose I'll take him up on his offer someday. And finding Bran was an accident. Trying to catch him was intentional."

"And the Starks are all the more grateful that you were able to catch him," Lewin said before walking up to the bed with a poultice in his hand, no doubt for Joran's goose egg of a bump. When the old man set it upon the young Mormont's bruised head, he winced and hissed at the stinging sensation it caused. "Hold this to your head for a time, and I'll replace it later on before evening comes."

"Thanks," Joran said before replacing his hand to the poultice so he could hold it in place.

"If you would both excuse me, my Lord and Lady, but I must go and see to my other patient," Lewin said with a curt nod to the two Mormonts.

"Don't let us keep you," Joran said as the man moved towards the door.

Before he left however, Lewin turned back to look at Joran and said with a small smile, "allow me to add my thanks to you, Joran. The Starks have been my family for as long as I have been their Maester. And for you to have saved one of the children, is without question a blessing to this House. So, thank you."

"Your welcome," Joran said, offering a smile back to the older man.

When Lewin left, Maege said, "I doubt that'll be the last thank you that you get before the day is out, nephew."

"Suppose not, but, before I get anymore, I think I'll go back to sleep," Joran said. He didn't feel like sleeping, but he couldn't well leave the bed without Maege stopping him, and he did not have any desire to keep getting the many thanks' face to face. So, Joran just decided he might as well rest while he could before he started for The Wall.

"Aye, you rest lad, you've earned it." Maege said before Joran settled down and drifted off.

…

The next day, before anyone had a chance to come and tell him how grateful they were that he had saved Bran, Joran adamantly told Maege that he wanted to see the boy. And, after a good hour of fighting with her about it, the She-Bear eventually gave out to her nephew. With two Stark guards to escort them to Bran's room, Joran, having a hand on Maege's shoulder to support himself if he took a spell and his scarf on his face, walked the halls of Winterfell to his desired destination. Once the small party arrived, guardsmen outside of the room announced their arrival to those within and admitted Joran and Maege when a voice called to let them in.

Upon stepping into the room, Joran felt that it was quite temperate from the heat of the fire, almost to the point of stuffy in comparison to the rest of the castle. The next thing that he noticed was who was inside the room. One face that Joran immediately recognized was that of a sleeping Bran Stark on a bed covered in furs, and the other was one that he took a moment to recall until he thought back to the night of the feast. It was the Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark, sitting by at the bedside of her son.

And the first thing Catelyn did when she saw Joran, was get up, walk over to him and embrace him like he was her best friend.

"My…Lady," Joran mumbled in surprise.

"Forgive me," Catelyn said into his chest in a sob. "But ever since I was told he would live, I haven't come personally to thank you. And, now that you're here, I…"

Shocked by the amount of emotion that was coming from Catelyn, Joran almost didn't know what to do. Looking at Maege for help or some kind of approval, the young Mormont only got the words 'don't just stand there' mouthed to him by his aunt. So, Joran did the only sensible thing that he could think of on the spot and gently rapping the crying mother into his arms, he said, "it's alright, My Lady. Bran is more important than I and I don't blame you for giving him the company he deserves while in sleep."

He would've told her to calm down and get a grip, but Joran had better sense not to, considering the circumstances and just allowed Catelyn to cry out her emotions into his shirt.

When she finally composed herself enough to stop her sobbing, Catelyn separated from Joran, looked up to him and said with a smile, "please, call me Catelyn, or Cat, it doesn't matter. There's no need to be formal with me. Not after what you've done for my boy."

When Catelyn's hand flew to her mouth to cover up a new wave of sobs, Joran looked from her over to Bran and back, asking, "is it alright if I see him…Catelyn?"

Removing her hand, Catelyn nodded in answer.

Leaving the two older women at the doorway, Joran made his way over to the sleeping Bran alone. Coming to stand above the boy, Mormont slowly knelt down beside the bed. Then, setting his elbows atop the mattress and leaning close so the unconscious Bran could hear him, Joran said, "hello Bran. It's Joran. I'm glad that you're alright.

"Minute I heard that you were fine, I wanted to come and see you," Joran spoke with honesty before passing a hand over the bump on his head to give emphasis to his reasons why he hadn't, even though the boy couldn't see. "But, catching you kind of left some things loose upstairs so, I had to give myself a little time to recover."

His words met with only the quiet breaths of the sleeping Bran, Joran removed his hand from his head and setting it instead on the boy's shoulder, went on to say, "I'm sorry, I wasn't able to keep you from hitting the ground." The young Mormont wanted to say more, like how he'd trade places with Bran if it stopped others from worrying about if he'd ever wake up. But Joran knew that regardless if he said or thought so, wouldn't change the fact that things were as they were at present.

Hearing the sound of footsteps behind him, Joran looked back to find Catelyn Stark moving back to her place by the bedside of her son and looking from Bran to him, said, "you did what you could for him. And that is more than any mother could ask for, given what happened."

"I take it he is a good climber," Joran said. "Seeing how high he had gotten on that tower was rather surprising."

"He loved to climb," Catelyn said, wiping away fresh tears. "Was always climbing around this place, even when I asked him not to cause I thought it was a dangerous pass time for him. I hate seeing that I was right."

"It's not your fault that this happened," Joran said, trying to comfort the distressed woman. "There was probably a loose stone that he didn't fully account for in the window of the tower, lost his grip or footing is all."

"The tower, window?" Catelyn seemed surprised by the new information Joran just provided.

"Yes. When I came upon him, I found that he had climbed all the way up to the tower window. He was standing in it, his arms extended on either side of the gap, like…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Joran said cause, he really didn't. Barely able to remember what he had seen that day at the tower, Mormont did remember that he had turned away for only a second and Bran had fallen down to him.

Seeming to leave the matter alone, Catelyn reached across the bed to grip Joran's free hand. "It doesn't matter. My boy's still alive, still well, because you were there. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Joran said, returning the squeeze with a gentle one of his own.

Lingering in silence for a time in Bran's room, Joran eventually took his leave of the sleeping boy and the Lady Stark. Making their way back to Maege's room, the young Mormont and his party were soon met with a strange sight. A pair of Lannister guards and a very short man.

"Ah, there's the hero that everyone's been talking about," the short man said when he spied Joran.

Taking a moment to think about who the short man could be, Joran came to realize who he was and said through his scarf, "Tyrion Lannister. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"When I heard you were awake and walking about today, I wanted to meet the man who saved a child falling from the sky," Tyrion said as he waddled up to Joran and offered the larger man his hand.

Slightly bending down, Joran took Tyrion's hand and shook it firmly saying, "I wouldn't call a coincidence an act of heroism. But, thank you all the same I suppose."

Releasing the little man's hand, Joran looked on as Tyrion turned to Maege Mormont and offered her a curt bow of his head in greeting. "Lady Maege, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance as well."

When Maege didn't say anything, Tyrion turned back to Joran and said, "my congratulations to a job well done in regards to the Stark boy. Takes a strong man to be able to do what you did and still be walking around yourself."

"So, I've been told," Joran said, curious as to what the purpose of all this was. He knew about Tyrion Lannister, The Imp as he was known to others for his short stature. Joran just didn't know why he was interested in him.

When Tyrion saw that it was apparent that Joran wasn't going to say anything more, he went on saying, "to tell you the truth, offering my congratulations is not the only reason that's brought me here to see you."

"Hm. Really?" Joran figured there would be more, otherwise, why would a man like Tyrion bother.

"Yes, it's in regards to Bran. I would like to know how he came to fall from that tower."

"Seems a strange question to ask, don't you think, Lord Tyrion," Maege said, breaking her silence with the dwarf.

"Indeed, which is why I felt the need to ask, Lady Maege," Tyrion said while looking up at the She-Bear.

"Why do you want to know?" Joran asked, finding it rather queer that anyone from House Lannister would be concerned about a child of House Stark. The animosity the two houses had for one another wasn't a secret.

"I've always found strange and spontaneous circumstances to be curious things," Tyrion answered, looking back to Joran. "And, when I come across circumstances that interest me enough to wonder if there is anything more to them, then I start to ask questions."

"Like?"

"If you perhaps saw something out of the ordinary when Bran fell, perhaps?"

"A child falling from the sky not enough out of the ordinary for your curiosity?"

"If that was the only thing, then yes. I suppose it would be."

Staring curiously at Tyrion, Joran thought to himself, does he think that Bran's fall was more than a loose stone? "I didn't see anything strange really. The only one who could tell you if there was anything more out of the ordinary would have to be Bran."

"I see. Well, that is disappointing." Tyrion said this before offering his hand up to Joran again. "I appreciate our talk master Joran. And hopefully this won't be our last."

Taking the shorter man's hand, Joran shook it and watched as Tyrion left with his escort down the hall.

"What are you thinking, lad," Maege asked.

"I'm not sure," Joran said. After what he had learned from Catelyn about Bran being a good climber and still managing to fall, and now with Tyrion Lannister asking him if he had seen anything out of the ordinary when it happened, the young Mormont really didn't know what to think. And, the minute he tried to make sense of all of it, Joran's head started to hurt again.

When Joran raised his hands to try and massage his temples, by extension make the pain go away, Maege noticed and said, "alright, that's enough excitement for one day. Let's get you back to bed."

"Aye," Joran relented without question.