Honor & Fealty chapter 19

Upon their arrival at Karhold, Willas taught him, Mya Stone and Samwell Tarly how to plant seed in the earth and grow crops while the hounds, hawks, horses and mules were tended to by the stable hands and kennel master.

Being highborn heirs with less than desirable fathers, Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton had common ground to stand on. In their conversations, Willas shared with Domeric his vision for what he wanted to do while in the North. Domeric had to respect the Reachman for his desire to break away from the shadow of his father and prove himself as his own man.

"My father presents himself as benevolent but he is dull on his best days. He never possessed the mind for politics like my grandmother. He never inherited her patience and strategy."

"Did you leave by your own choice or did your father cast you out for embracing the Old Gods?" Domeric asked. It was not every day when a Southron chose to convert to the faith held by the Northmen, the Free Folk and the crannogmen.

"The games they played between each other and the rest of the Reach began to wear on me. Along with that, being the heir to Highgarden began to lose its meaning and value when I came to realize how little influence or involvement I had in political discourse in spite of the training and studies meant to prepare me for it."

"And here you are, attempting to grow crops in the North. Did you ever consider how difficult it would be?"

"I never expected it to be easy. Nothing worth having was ever easy. My leg being the way it is did not help me in any respect. What I do know is, if given the choice, I will embrace my death with open arms rather than limp back to my father with my tail between my legs."

Domeric saw this as well though he did not feel pity for Willas Tyrell's plight. What he felt was a call to serve; a concept his father never possessed in himself or held in high regard.

"A word to the wise. You should probably not tempt fate in such a way." Domeric said.

"I'll keep that in mind." Willas said as they continued their work.

"Take aim at the target in front of you. Take a breath. Hold. Release it. Take another one. Hold. Loose."

Bran sent the arrow flying. In the split second it took for the arrow to clear the bow, Bran had reached to the quill, grabbed another arrow and knocked it into place, drawing back the string until it was between his neck and shoulder.

There were four targets in total. One was at 10 feet away. The second one was at 15 feet away. The third was at 20 feet away. The final one was up in a tree at 30 feet.

Bran was able to get the first, second and third but fell short on the fourth, which Jorelle struck down with an arrow landing on the bullseye.

"You're improving, Bran. Keep practicing and you will get better." Jorelle said. As Bran collected the arrows, Summer ran towards them panting after a hunt in the woods. He brought with him one of the hares he did not devour right away for both his master and his tutor.

"Your wolf is generous with his gains." Jorelle said as she patted Summer on his head. "Now I will teach you how to prepare a hare for lunch."

It took a while for Bran to not get squeamish about skinning a dead hare but with Jorelle teaching him, he only suffered a momentary pale complexion. "Don't worry. He's long dead. Nothing else can be done to him." Jorelle said before shoving the spit right up the hare's backside until it came out from the back of its neck. Jorelle cut it's belly open and all its insides fell right out.

While the hare cooked over a fire, Jorelle brought up the topic that was whispered to Bran by Lyra and Lyanna. "I do not despise Jojen for having affections towards me. I just know that I would kill him if he failed in his attempt to win my hand in marriage."

"Do you have to kill him, Lady Jorelle, because he's not a warrior like you are?" Bran asked.

"I was told by the elder handmaidens who served in Winterfell long before my birth that my uncle Brandon was wild, courageous and strong. Your mother called him the Wild Wolf. He was meant to marry my mother. He was murdered by the Mad King before that could happen. My father, he never boasted of his ability. He was reserved and stoic but he cared for his countrymen and his family. Lord Eddard Stark is not the warrior heir his brother was and yet you and your house still honor him. Jojen may not be able to prove himself in battle but is that all there is?"

"Brandon Stark, there are times when I wish I could believe there was more to life than fighting to the last breath. When you have fought for so long that there doesn't seem to be anything else." Jorelle said before looking over to a clearing several feet from them, a smile crossing her face as she recalled a memory from not long ago.

"Did you know that my mother once got into a fight with the Leech Lord?"

Bran never saw that coming. "Why would Lord Bolton get into a fight with your mother?" Bran asked.

"Roose Bolton came to Bear Island some years ago. His son, Domeric, he was trained for tourneys. Dacey was trained for combat. By the time Domeric showed up, Dacey was already battle tested and equally battle hardened. Roose Bolton thought a union between his house and one of the more trusted ones to House Stark would improve his standing in the North. Instead, he watched as Dacey beat Domeric brutally. Then the unthinkable happened. Roose Bolton intervened before Dacey could take Domeric's head, thus cutting the Bolton line forever."

"Lord Bolton interfered?" Bran asked.

"He tried to kill Dacey, which my mother did not tolerate for one moment. She buried both fists into the Leech Lord and sent him back to the Dreadfort with a shattered ego, wounded pride, a limp in his leg, bruises from head to toe, sores in places no man wants to feel them and knowing that his son bore witness to it all. Since that day, House Bolton has never been welcomed on Bear Island. We are not welcome at the Dreadfort either, which turned out to be a blessing since none of us have ever wanted to go there." Jorelle said as she checked the hare.

"Domeric and Dacey did not become friends after that. Our house remained ever faithful to yours while his house remained ambitious."

"Is ambition such a bad thing?" Bran asked.

"When it consumes everything you knew and makes you forget what morals you have, yes. House Bolton embodies that concept, which is the least grotesque of what they are known for."

As they ate in peace with Summer at his side, Bran noticed the sun setting in the distance. "We should perhaps start riding back to Mormont Keep before nightfall."

Arya felt the cold winds blow through her hair, biting at her knuckles as she held the spear horizontally in front of her in an attempt to stay balanced.

Lyra took the fur cloak from Arya's back before having her climb up to what she lovingly called The Pine Line. A tightly strung rope between two tall soldier pine trees served for both discipline and training.

The smell of pine would never be for Arya as it was for most others. It would only remind her of how far up she was and how far down she could fall with one wrong step.

Nymeria was circling the trees in worry for her mistress as she walked gingerly across the tightrope suspended high above the ground.

Each step felt like a thousand as she walked from one tree to the other. When she was close enough, Arya leapt towards the tree, praying to the Old Gods that she could clear the distance and grab onto the tree trunk. She had her face turned to the side upon impact. Instead of getting a broken nose, she only has a sore cheek and a slight bump over her right eye. Her spear fell down to the ground below.

Upon landing back on solid ground, Arya found herself staring at Lyra, who held the spear that fell moments ago. "Tomorrow, you are going to do it again."

"Why?"

"You lost your weapon. If I were a Wildling or an Ironborn raider, you would have been killed or taken as a salt wife. Neither of those sound like fun, do they?"

Arya shook her head. "That is why you are doing that again tomorrow."

"Did your mother do the same thing to you?" Arya asked.

"Me, Alysane, Dacey, Jorelle. Lyanna has walked the Pine Line She had more balance than us but she still falters in keeping her weapon in hand when she's up there." Lyra said as she demonstrated her skill and agility with the spear. "It was not easy for any of us. I lost count of how many times I fell from up there or lost my weapon. Bran tried it himself not so long ago."

"How did he fare?" Arya asked.

"To my surprise, better than the both of us and my sisters. He crossed from one end to the other with great ease." Lyra said, recalling how she had to climb up to the top and get Bran down from the trees. He was having too much fun climbing and walking the tightrope only compounded his excitement.

"What are we going to do next?" Arya asked.

"You and I are going for a swim."

Arya's eyes went wide as she thought of how freezing cold the Bay of Ice would be even when winter had not come yet. Lyra saw this on the young girl's face and smiled. "The waterfall here has a lake deep enough for us to swim in and it's less cold than the Bay of Ice."

Lyra led Arya and Nymeria to the lake, which was fed by a cascading waterfall.

"I only have one set of smallclothes on. What else can I use for swimming?" Arya said.

Lyra laughed. "Smallclothes? Arya, they may help your modesty but they can weigh you down when you get in the water."

Arya's jaw dropped as Lyra shed every stitch of clothing from her body, which was now completely displayed before the young wolf pup. Arya turned away as if not to stare until a pair of hands forcibly turned her around and she was staring straight at Lyra's teats.

"Get used to seeing a woman's body, Arya Stark. Whether you like it or not, you will grow into a woman. This is a glimpse of what you will look like." Lyra said before diving into the lake. Nymeria dove right in without a second thought.

After a while of watching Lyra and Nymeria swim around, Arya disrobed completely and dove into the water.

Then Arya remembered something.

Whatever skills she had, swimming was not one of them. She never swam at Winterfell or even in Riverrun on the rare times she went there with her siblings and mother.

Lyra saw this and quickly swam up to Arya and took the young girl in her arms to keep her head above water. "I should have asked if you could swim."

Arya sputtered and gasped for air in an attempt to steady her heart. Nymeria dog paddled over to her mistress and gave a lick on the cheek.

"Before you leave Bear Island, you'll swim with the best of them, Arya." Lyra said as she taught Arya how to swim.

It took Arya several tries but after a few, she started to get her stride and started to swim.

When they got dressed again and headed back to Mormont Keep, Arya asked Lyra a very personal question.

"Do you love Jon?"

Up until that point, Lyra did not think Arya could take her by surprise. "I do love him, Arya."

"My mother will think of sending him away if she hasn't already. The next time you see him, talk him into marrying you."

Lyra did not expect to hear such a thing come from the little wolf pup. "Arya? How would that help?"

"My mother has never shown any care for him and I'm afraid that she will send him to the Wall."

Lyra felt her heart clench and her stomach turn as she thought of that. "I will not let that happen." She spoke firmly.

"If you marry Jon, he won't have to go to the Wall."

"Marriage should not be more than a road block but I also do not want to see Jon bind himself to the Wall because of your mother." Lyra said as worry began to enter her mind.

Upon arriving back at Mormont Keep after having trained in skinchanging, Bran approached Lyra and whispered to her, "Go out into the Bay of Ice tomorrow before midday on a longboat when you go swimming."

"Did you talk to Arya?" Lyra asked.

Bran shook his head. "Jon will ride out to Sea Dragon Point and swim out to find you. Be there to receive him."

"How do you know this, Bran?" Lyra asked.

"I do not know." Bran said. "I was bonding with Summer and I saw Jon riding through the Wolfswood, past Deepwood Motte and towards the Bay of Ice with Ghost at his side."

Lyra looked at him for a moment before coming to a realization. Such a capability would only be manifest in someone who was either directly connected to the Old Gods or someone with the fabled gift of greensight. Leaning in, Lyra whispered into his ear, "What else did you see?"

"Lyra, it is late." Alysane said, interrupting the conversation before Bran could say anything. Lyra looked Bran in the face to see if he knew what she was asking about.

Bran's face was expressionless and betrayed no thought or emotion.

Sleep was fleeting for Lyra but she was already preparing herself for the day to come.

A/n: I have made it a point to not make this too rushed or too long winded.