Honor & Fealty chapter 11
Jorelle Mormont first wrapped her hands around a bow and arrow at the age of four. In the span of eight years, the archer's bow became an extension of her arm. Though Dacey, Alysane, Lyra and Lyanna were all capable with archery, Jorelle was the most proficient.
Like Arya, she never gave any interest in being a docile wife to some lord. However, in spite of how she felt about marriage, there were sons of fishermen, smiths and crofters casting glances at her.
Standing on the training grounds with Arya and Bran Stark, Jorelle Mormont helped them practice their archery. For the most part, she expected them to be rather green when it came to accuracy but they were a long way from being put on the line.
Arya and Bran hit the bullseye on their third shot.
"I guess you both owe a lifelong debt of gratitude to Lyanna." Jorelle said as she cast a glance at Lyanna watching over her nephew, Beron, and the youngest of the Stark children, Rickon, as they were playing with Shaggydog. "You are good but if you are in battle, it's not about how many arrows you can cast." Jorelle explained before nocking an arrow on her bow, drawing back and loosing it.
In the moment it took to blink their eyes, Jorelle's arrows struck the bullseye of both Bran and Arya's targets, splitting their arrows straight down the middle.
"It's all about the one that kills the enemy before he could even get the chance to attack. If you can not land the shot on the first try, you are dead."
"You are lucky that your mother allows you to train. My mother would sooner punish me than let me train with Robb and Jon."
Being older than Arya by three years did not make Jorelle any smarter than the rambunctious she wolf but the impulsiveness worried the young she bear. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Arya. Bear Island is not a fortified stronghold like Winterfell. There are no walls around us to repel attacks. My mother trained us not because we begged her to. It was all out of necessity, duty and survival." Jorelle said as she assisted Bran in perfecting his posture and grip on the bow. "Stand tall. Control your breathing. Steady your heart. Take a deep breath. Hold it. Release it through your nose. Take another breath. Fire."
Bran loosed his arrow and, to his astonishment, struck the bullseye. He repeated it again and again, the advice of Jorelle weighing on his mind as one by one, he began emptying the arrows from the quiver on his back until all of them were shot right into the bullseye.
Jorelle smiled and kissed Bran on the head before she leaned in and whispered, "You will become better than any of us can imagine, Bran."
The sound of clapping was enough to catch their attention as well as Beron, Lyanna and Rickon.
"I once saw her put an arrow through a man at 50 yards just for knocking over her beer in a tavern."
"Was that during or after the Rebellion, Ser?" Jorelle asked.
"It was after the Battle of the Trident. When the fighting had died down, your mother and I went to a tavern for a drink. It was a rather stubborn Riverlander who knocked her beer over. I never figured which house he was from. I know one thing though. He was no Frey since he actually reached down, found a set of balls and fought the rebellion on our side."
Brynden whistled in appreciation as he looked at the archery targets. "Jorelle Mormont, is it?"
Jorelle nodded. "If I were to go by your apparel, I would venture a guess. You are the Blackfish. Am I right?"
The older man nodded. "Your skill is impressive. If my nephew had a tenth of your ability, I would have thought him a capable fighter. Or at the least, a decent archer."
"Isn't he, uncle Brynden?" Bran asked.
"Bran, I love Edmure but he is more interested in seeking glory for himself than in the service and duty of which is required of him as heir to Riverrun." Brynden said grimly. The words of Howland Reed and his son, Jojen, echoed in his mind in the day and night.
Bran frowned. "What is wrong with glory and fame?"
"When that becomes the only things you seek, it becomes a problem." Brynden explained. "You may be the second son of Lord Stark but I have a feeling you will be called upon to undertake a great position, which will bring great responsibilities."
Jorelle listened to what Brynden Tully was telling Bran and Arya while noticing out of the corner of her eye Lyanna telling Rickon something in his ear while the youngest Stark child was holding on to Shaggydog.
"Isn't Uncle Edmure supposed to inherit the ancestral seat of House Tully?" Arya asked.
The incredulous expression on Brynden's face spoke volumes before he voiced his thoughts. "Arya, your grandfather, my brother, had him schooled and trained for years. In martial ability, he is somewhat capable. However, it takes much more than just knowing what is expected and required."
"Then who will govern the Riverlands if not House Tully?" Bran asked.
"There were constant battles fought for governance of the Riverlands long before House Tully received the ranks of Lords Paramount. If House Tully falls and no one steps up to keep the peace, the other houses will fight each other like rabid dogs. If that does not happen, the Ironborn might get the idea to reclaim the inglorious days of Harren the Black."
"Are you not a Tully?" Jorelle asked.
"If you were to ask my brother, he would say no. Nevertheless, I remain a blood relative and standing member of House Tully." Brynden said.
"If the colors of red and blue are still on your standard; if the words of House Tully are yours to recite and if your family name is Tully, would that suggest that your nephew is not the only heir to Riverrun?" Jorelle asked.
"I am not meant to sit my old arse on a chair so it could be kissed by ever Riverlord between Ironman's Bay and the Bite. Apart from that, my brother, who remains stubborn as a herd of mules to this day, shunned me. If he were inclined to take me back and name me his successor, the silver trout would be replaced with the blackfish."
Jorelle looked at him with an unwavering expression. "Silver trout or blackfish. It means nothing to a bear as it would devour both without discrimination."
"Watch your tongue, bear cub. This blackfish will break your teeth if you try to take a bite out of me."
Jorelle smiled at Brynden. "Now you're talking like a Northerner."
"Your mother taught me. I just never had the chance to put it into practice for a long while."
"Uncle."
Brynden looked up to see Catelyn watching from up above. "Excuse me, children." Getting up to his feet, he looked to Jorelle with a grin. "I must attend to personal matters."
"What might they be, Blackfish?" Jorelle challenged.
"Family, Duty, Honor. Those sorts of matters." Brynden said, reciting the words of House Tully with pride. "You have bravery and audacity, Jorelle, but you are stubborn. That applies to you too, Arya."
Brynden walked away from the training grounds, leaving Jorelle thinking about what he said until Arya tugged at Jorelle's arm. "You are a Mormont of Bear Island. I'm a Stark of Winterfell. That will never change."
"Thank the Gods for that." Jorelle said with a smile before she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled for Summer and Nymeria to come running over to her.
"Arya, Bran, there is something you both need to do. Listen carefully to me and do not speak of this to anyone."
Throughout the conversation and well past it, Arya and Bran kept their direwolves closer than their own shadows.
A/n: I am surprised that I was able to write this chapter overnight. One day is not long enough to really have both the Mormonts and the Starks together but I think I can work it out where each Mormont sister will have some direct influence with the Stark children. By the way, on a side note, there is this idea of Theon Greyjoy talking with Brynden Tully about his grandfather. I will have to see how this story unfolds before I either scrap the idea or include it.