Honor & Fealty chapter 20

While Lord and Lady Stark spoke privately with Ser Brynden Tully, four heirs stood in pairs and across from each other outside Lord Stark's solar, sizing each other up.

While Robb welcomed Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton with courtesy, Dacey eyed Domeric with a cold glare and the crippled Reachman with a suspicious glance. Dacey really did not think much of him until he mentioned turning away from the Faith of the Seven to embrace the Old Gods kept by her and the Northmen. No sooner than when she heard that, Dacey Mormont's curiosity and suspicion were both peaked.

Willas Tyrell did not strike her as a threat. As for Domeric Bolton, all she could see was a faceless Red King of the Dreadfort standing before her.

As far as Dacey Mormont was concerned, House Bolton would forever be the bane of the North.

Domeric Bolton had not forgotten how close to death he had been when he crossed swords with Lady Maege Mormont's eldest daughter. As appealing to the eye as she was, Dacey Mormont was not by any means a friend of his.

Willas and Robb seemed to sense the not so friendly way Dacey Mormont and Domeric Bolton looked at each other long before either of them had spoken one word to each other.

"I did not expect to see you in Winterfell, Lady Dacey." Domeric spoke as he looked over the heir to Bear Island.

"I was not counting on seeing you in Winterfell either, Domeric Bolton."

"Contrary to what you may believe, Lady Dacey, I am not my father. I never was."

"And yet you remain a Bolton and a descendant of the Red Kings who opposed House Stark."

"If my family name was Umber, Karstark, Flint, Hornwood, Glover or Tallhart, you would not hold me in such contempt."

"If you bore any of those names, I would grieve for those houses on the thought of them having you in their lineage."

Robb spoke up in an attempt to keep the peace. "Dacey Mormont. Domeric Bolton. You may not like each other and the both of you may seem worlds apart but there is one thing you both have in common. Your houses are sworn to mine. The both of you are guests in the stronghold of my ancestors. Do either of you recognize and honor the guest right?"

"Yes, always, Robb." Dacey said firmly to his face.

Domeric nodded while noticing how Dacey was on a first name basis with the heir to Winterfell. "I too honor the guest right, Robb Stark, with the same reverence possessed by Lady Dacey Mormont. In spite of her rigid beliefs of me and my family, the Boltons of the Dreadfort are known to honor the guest right whenever we are graced with visiting company. Under different circumstances, I would have happily invited Lady Dacey and her sisters for a holiday at the Dreadfort."

Dacey looked at Domeric with a hard glare. "Bolton, my sisters and I are in no hurry to ask for refuge in the house of the Flayed Man. I would sooner take refuge with Lord Reed and the crannogmen of the Neck. The lizard lions are of better cheer and are more well spoken."

"Lady Dacey." Robb warned.

Dacey instantly held her tongue behind her teeth and dug deep to find some measure of civility.

"In consideration to Robb Stark, we are in Winterfell, not the Dreadfort or Bear Island. My family and I know better than to bring strife into another's home, most of all the sacred home of their liege lord and Warden of the North."

"Lady Dacey, whether you belive me or not, I do not seek to bring trouble to Winterfell. Despite my family's uprisings against House Stark, there were notable times when the direwolf and the flayed man fought side by side. Our families fought together alongside each other during Robert's Rebellion. Your mother never thought to loose an arrow anywhere in my father's general direction. When Lord Stark called upon his bannermen to fight House Greyjoy, my father never once shirked or ignored the call to arms. My father never raised a hand or any weapon against your mother."

At that moment, Ser Brynden Tully emerged from Lord Stark's solar. He did not need anyone to explain what was going on. He could tell there was hostility between at least two of the four heirs standing before him.

"Mormont and Bolton, until the both of you can learn to get along, I may have to ask that both of you keep your distance from each other. That means hands off the bows and arrows if you both are on the training grounds. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ser Tully." Dacey and Domeric chorused.

"Now that no one is going to try and kill anyone, Lord and Lady Stark wish to speak with you and Willas Tyrell privately." Brynden Tully said to Domeric directly.

After Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton entered the solar, Robb turned to Dacey and spoke firmly with a resolve and maturity he didn't think he possessed. "Until the Boltons or the Tyrells decide to directly attack us, do not greet them in the same way you would greet the Free Folk or the Ironborn."

Dacey bowed her head contritely. "I do not trust them."

"Dacey, I understand completely why you would be hesitant to share company with them but neither Willas Tyrell or Domeric Bolton have come with ill intent. You need to learn some sort of diplomacy. Not everyone who approaches you seeks to do you harm."

"I have not had the luxury of trusting people easily, especially when they are Southrons and outsiders." Dacey retorted.

"Come with me to the godswood. Perhaps time in prayer and reflection will grant you some peace of mind."

"That sounds good." Dacey said, admiring how Robb was beginning to talk like a grown man. "Would you and Grey Wind care to join me?"

"Of course, Lady Dacey. I belive that would be ideal." Robb replied as Grey Wind gave a growl in agreement.

On their way to the courtyards, Robb and Dacey thought the hostilities were behind them.

Then they walked in on a heated discussion between Jon and the Vale-born bastard girl. Dacey and Robb arrived in time to hear Mya tell Jon, "Don't let your origin dictate to you what you're worth or what you deserve. Tomorrow morning, if the chance presents itself, ride out to the Bay of Ice and see if you can overcome yourself. If you don't have the guts to do that, I will kick you so hard in your nuts that you won't have to worry about fathering children."

"What are you all discussing that involves bodily harm to my brother, Mya Stone?"

Theon and Jon were more than flabbergasted at Mya's declaration and challenge but then they were starting to get up and walk away from Mya when they heard Dacey Mormont's voice. The heir to Bear Island looked like she was about to rip the blue-eyed woman in half. It was only Robb's hand on her arm that restrained Dacey.

"I beg pardon, Lord Robb. I did not mean to bring any strife into your home but I had to say my peace regarding a personal matter."

Jon, having already consumed several cups of wine, openly asked in a untactful way, "What do you know about bedding someone of a higher station than you? You are just as much a bastard as I am."

Mya's eyes grew hardened with fury. "More than you know, Snow."

Turning her attention to Robb and Dacey, Mya took a deep breath to calm herself. "May I be excused, Lord Robb? I would like to tend to my mules. They are less stubborn than certain others I can think of right now."

"You may." Robb said.

While Mya stormed away toward the stables of Winterfell, Jon Snow and Ghost retreated to the godswood.

When he returned to King's Landing, Ser Jaime Lannister entered Maegor's Holdfast and made his way to the royal bed chambers. As he made his way inside, Jaime was met by his twin sister who had her back to him as she sat before her looking glass, a chalice of Arbor Gold resting at her side as tended to herself. The robe she wore wrapped tight around a body he fantasized about in the light of day and the dark of night. In the reflection of the looking glass, Jaime could see that the front of the robe was opened just enough to display enough cleavage with which to catch his attention.

Queen Cersei Lannister never took the Baratheon name upon her marriage to King Robert. Though she married a stag, Cersei remained a lioness as she laid claim to everything she ever wanted in life. Wealth, beauty, power and a family. All these things she was able to call her own and she did not bat an eye over enjoying every bit of it.

Yet the smile on her face never reached her eyes, which bore no light in them.

She had it all and yet there was no true contentment.

Except for whenever she saw her twin brother.

"How was the weekly journey to the Stormlands?" Cersei asked flippantly as Ser Jaime poured hismelf a glass of wine.

"It was the same as the previous ones, only this time, King Robert had a scribe take down a degree for a marriage betrothal."

Cersei did not expect that. "A marriage betrothal? For who?" She asked as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at Jaime.

Ser Jaime laughed at her suspicion. "Whatever else King Robert may be, he's not into having a gaggle of wives like Lord Walder Frey of the Crossing. The betrothal is between Lady Margaery of House Tyrell and his brother, Lord Renly of House Baratheon."

Seeing the look on Cersei's face, Jaime added, "Even if he had interest in her, she is still the daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell. I imagine he'd sooner take a long walk into Blackwater Bay rather than to call that man his father by law." There was another reason why Jaime Lannister found the marriage betrothal between Renly and Margaery to be more comical than anything else. Rather than to reveal it to Cersei or even their younger brother, Tyrion, he chose to keep it to himself as a private joke.

"Apart from wedding the Rose Cunt of the Reach to his youngest brother, what else has he been up to behind the walls of Storm's End?" Cersei asked. She was expecting to hear tales of King Robert's whoring, hunting and drinking. What she heard next was not what she expected.

"He spent much of his time in the library of Storm's End."

"Why would he be there?" Cersei asked as she rose from her seat and approached Jaime, her robe started to open more, revealing her lithe legs for moments at a time before vanishing behind the silk fabrics of the robe.

"I imagine it is to read books. Libraries are full of them and completely void of prostitutes. I was surprised to find him with his nose in a book rather than between a woman's teats." Ser Jaime said as he drank from his wine glass.

"What is he reading about?" Cersei asked. By this time, she was only 5 feet away from Jaime.

"He was reading up on the history of Storm's End, Aegon's Landing and the Field of Fire."

Cersei's concern melted away and was quickly replaced by annoyance. "The past should be left there and relegated to distant memory. I care more about what is in front of me in the here and now."

"As do I, sweet sister." Jaime Lannister quipped as she shed her robe and he took her to bed.

The further he got from Mya Stone and the closer he got to the heart tree, the more Jon Snow felt his inebriation wane to where he got a hold of his senses and remembered every word that fell out of his mouth. Why did I say that? Where did I get off insulting a guest of Winterfell?

The question was rhetorical. He knew full well why he said it. He was a bastard and those are not well known for fathering children or taking wives for that matter. No maiden ever lept for joy when she was to tell her parents that she would happily wed a bastard with nothing to his name except disgrace.

Sitting down at the base of the heart tree, Jon thought of Lyra swimming out in the Bay of Ice, waiting and wondering if he was ever going to swim out to her.

Then he thought of what she said to him that night when she paid him back for the pleasures he gave her in the bell tower of Winterfell. It should have given him some comfort but it only reminded him of his bastardy.

Ghost was at his side every step of the way and the fact that he never made any sounds unless necessary was a comfort to him. His albino direwolf never judged him or criticized him and yet those red eyes that looked at him seemed to say more than anyone else.

Upon Ghost turning his head, Jon looked in the same direction and found himself staring at Dacey Mormont, who looked at him firmly but without judgment. "I never drank that pisswater the Southrons call summerwine because it dulls the senses faster than beer and it makes you sound like an ass." Dacey spoke as she approached Jon with long strides until she had his back against the heart tree.

"Lady Dacey, I..." Jon started only to have Dacey put her hand over his mouth.

"Do not lie to me, Jon. Especially here in the godswood. The Old Gods will know if you do." Dacey warned. "My sister, Lyra, has had several lovers from the age of 13 to 16. You know that, don't you?"

Jon nodded. "Twenty in all." He said with a gruff.

"They were not bastards and yet were not better than you by any stretch of the imagination. No one expected anything from them and they were not called on to inherit lands or titles. Do you think Lyra gave her maiden's head to any of those boys?"

"I do not know and I do not have it in me to guess." Jon answered.

"I know."

Those three words were enough to catch Jon's heart in his throat. "Half of those lovers died from either Ironborn raids, trespassing Wildlings or from sickness. Five took the black after realizing they had no chance in besting Lyra in battle. The other five..."

"What happened to them?" Jon asked, silently cursing his curiosity.

"Lyra killed them." Dacey replied. "But ultimately, though she had twenty lovers in her life, none of them ever laid down with her." Backing away by a few steps, Dacey took Jon's hand and sat him down. "Do you love Lyra?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, I do, but I..."

"I only asked if you love her. I already know she loves you. Lyra mentioned to me about the challenge she gave you. You are a good boy and modesty does help to keep your pride in check but you seem to have a bit too much for your own sake. I will not tell you what you ought to do. If I did, you would be tugging at my side for the rest of your life when it came to making decisions. Whatever happens between you and Lyra will be based on the decision you make for yourself, Jon."

Dacey reached over to Ghost and petted him tenderly. "You ought to take Ghost with you. Who knows? You might end up going to Bear Island. Arya and Bran probably miss you as much as Nymeria and Summer miss Ghost." It was not until she said it that Dacey heard Lady Catelyn's words echoing in her mind from long ago about sending Jon to Bear Island or to the Wall in order to keep him separated from Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon.

Getting up to her feet, Dacey was about to walk away when Jon spoke, "Do you love my brother?"

If she was going to have Jon be completely open with her, Dacey Mormont could not refuse him the same level of honesty. Dacey turned her head and looked Jon face to face. "Yes, I love Robb very much."

"I think you are best for him. It will keep him from doing foolish things."

"Fools are very ingenious for what they can do, Jon, but I will do what I can." Dacey said.

"If it will bind my senses to me and give you some peace of mind, I will swear off summerwine the rest of my days."

Dacey smiled and wrapped an arm around Jon and pulled him close to her. "That sounds good and well but whether you live up to that promise, only time will tell."

Hodor was well accustomed to being overlooked. In truth, he never really sought any distinct notice. What mattered to him was to serve House Stark. Old Nan taught him that from long ago when he was the size and age of little Rickon Stark.

That was many, many years ago. Now he was a man full grown at well over seven feet in height with great strength but his mind had long ago rendered him only able to say one word.

A word people would refer to him as.

Hodor.

In spite of his lack of speech, there were more that loved him than anything else. In Winterfell, he found a home and that was worth more than all the gold in Westeros.

He was tending to the mules brought in by the four strangers when he heard footsteps. In moments, the girl dressed in masculine clothes appeared. She seemed upset but then smiled at him. "Hello, Hodor. I thought no one was around. Could I join you in tending to them?"

Hodor nodded and hurried off . Within moments, he returned with a sack of grains over his shoulder, a brush tucked in his belt and a bucket of water in hand.

Mya was impressed at Hodor's promptness and started brushing the manes of her mules.

For reasons she would never be able to really understand, Mya opened her thoughts to the tall stable boy. "Are there mountains in the North, Hodor?"

Hodor nodded.

"I was born in the Vale. Mountains as far as the eye can see and rocky terrain in between. I can not recall what my mother looked like but I remember a big, strong man tossing me up in the air and catching me with his big hands. Some people say bastards are not really given any name if no one knows who their parents are. I was born with the name Stone. Clearly, everyone knows who my father is."

Hodor listened as she went on. "I should have been happy to live in the Vale with the freedom to come and go as I please. I get to wear what I like, speak how I wish and no one was there to tell me otherwise. I should be happy and I'm not."

"Hodor (Why are you sad?)." Hodor spoke.

Mya grinned. For a moment, she thought it was a touch of madness for her to talk with someone incapable of talking back. However, it did not stop her from talking as she fed the mules.

"There was someone I loved in the Vale. I still love him though there is no future for me and him. Mychel was his name. He took me to bed or I took him to bed. The more I think of it, I can not tell for certain which happened. What I do know is that, for a time, I thought I was with child. Families in the Vale are not too kind to bastards who lay with their highborn sons. So I left out of fear for myself and the child I thought was growing inside me. It wasn't until I was in the Riverlands when I found out that I was not in the family way. I have not gone back. I can not tell him that there was no child without his family and House Royce finding out. It's cold comfort to know that I at least walked out on my own terms rather than being cast out into the waiting arms of some mountain clansman."

Hodor noticed how she had her face turned away as she spoke. Setting the bucket down, Mya wrapped her arms around her mule's neck and buried her face in the black mane. Walking over, Hodor put a hand on her shoulder gently as if to show that he cared.

The sound of the mules naying in alarm broke the moment. Mya and Hodor turned to the source of their fear and there was Grey Wind alongside Robb Stark.

"Hodor, help Lady Mya calm her mules. Then you may continue with your daily chores."

Hodor nodded and followed Robb's orders to the letter. Once the mules were docile again, Hodor bowed his head to Robb before leaving to continue his daily chores elsewhere.

Mya looked at Robb and asked, "How much did you hear?"

"This is not King's Landing. My father would never approve of gossip from either his household, soldiers or family. You have nothing to fear from us." Robb said. "Does Mychel have a family name?"

"Redfort."

The name did not seem to reverberate in Robb's memory so he did not have any opinion on the matter. "The talk, if you could call it that, you had with my brother and Theon, it touched a nerve. Were you planning to follow up on your word in regards to physically assaulting Jon?"

"I spoke out of anger. That was uncalled for and I apologize." Mya said contritely before noticing that Robb referred to Jon as his brother in spite of the bastard name Snow.

"You call him your brother though he was the offspring of a woman who was not your lady mother. I do not think I have seen or heard anything like that until here and now."

"Jon grew up here in Winterfell along with the rest of us. I can not say it was always easy for him. My mother only saw him as the blight on her honor and a sign that my father loved another woman more than her."

"Speaking of women loved by Starks, how long have you and Lady Mormont loved each other?"

"The Mormonts and the Starks are close. I have known her since I was an infant. Dacey Mormont was a girl of seven years at the time." Looking Mya over, Robb could not help but see something of Arya in Mya.

"When it's time for dinner, it would do well to talk with Jon and make peace with him."

Mya nodded.

As Robb was about to leave, Mya asked, "If I were to ask your lord father for leave to see the mountains near the Bay of Ice, would he allow you and your brother to join me?"

"You would need to ask him first. If he allows it, we'll go together."

King Robert, in one of those rare times when he was not whoring and drinking, held a quill in hand as he wrote upon a parchment. Apart from himself, there was only one other person watching him.

Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard patiently stood there in a chamber void of windows and corners. It was a place ventured to by few if anyone.

Not even Varys could sneak up on them.

For the most part, few words if any were shared between them but Semly heard King Robert mumble on about 'bloody Targaryens' and 'misbegotten scum'.

Ser Barristan knew his duties. Nowhere among them did they say he had to peer over his King's shoulder to see what he was writing or listening to the rantings of a king too stuck in the past to move forward.

Upon placing the seal of the crowned stag of Baratheon and signing the parchment, King Robert rolled it up and tied it with a sash. Rising from the table, King Robert put the parchment into Ser Barristan's hands.

"As Lord Commander, you are charged with protecting your King and carrying out his duties without question. Is that so, Ser Barristan?" King Robert growled.

"With my life and to my last breath, Your Grace." Ser Barristan replied.

"Keep this out of prying eyes. Only I know the contents of this decree. If asked, you know nothing of this decree. Understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Good." For a moment, there was silence until King Robert asked, "How is my Lord Hand?"

"From Grand Maester Pycelle's reports, the sickness seems to worsen with time. He is still certain that his health would recover. If I may say it, I'm not so easily convinced."

"A knight does not know the ways of healing, only combat and sending his enemies to meet the Stranger." King Robert remarked before a thought came to mind. "Ser Barristan, tell me in plainest truth, what is to happen if Jon does not recover and the Stranger comes to claim him?"

"In plainest truth, you will need a new Hand, Your Grace."

"You wished to speak with me, Lord Stark?" Mya asked as she entered Lord Stark's private solar, which was as cold as being outside the walls of Winterfell.

"Yes, I did. Please have a seat."

Usually, the solar's hearth would have been still and cold. Eddard Stark found the cold winds to be invigorating and soothing. However, in respect to the young woman who was not accustomed to the cold Northern winds, Ned had a fire set in the hearth.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, he did not know exactly what to say first so he just asked one of the more civil questions he could ask a guest.

"How have you found your stay here in Winterfell?" Ned asked.

"Pleasant, though I must say that it's not every day when I get fought into a dress." Mya said gruffly. She had long protested against wearing a dress, saying she never wore one a day in her life back in the Vale.

Sansa argued to her that she would look beautiful in a dress. Mya said they looked prissy. That made Sansa gasp at how much that sounded like what Arya would say. Sansa tried swaying Mya's perception on dressing like a lady but it was to no avail.

Dacey Mormont found a different tactic that worked. "If you can beat me in a sparing match, you can wear whatever you like to supper in the Great Hall. If I beat you, pick the dress you hate the least."

Dacey was kind enough to not strike the face but in the end, Mya Stone was in the Great Hall, wearing one of Sansa's dresses.

"For what it's worth, you looked lovely." Ned said roughly. Complimenting other people was not exactly a skill set he was famous for.

Mya smirked. "With all due respect, Lord Stark, you are known more for your honor than your flattery."

For a long while, though he never spoke one word of it, Ned Stark saw something eerily familiar in Mya Stone. The rebellious fire, the lust for adventure and the striking resemblance, it all added up.

"Lady Mya, what do you know about your father?"

"Less than what everyone else seems to know. No one bothers to say his name or bother to say where he's from. All they seem to say is that I take after him more than my mother."

Ned sighed. "If you truly take after him, it is evident to me."

"How so, my lord?" Mya asked.

"I was once fostered in the Eyrie with another man from the Stormlands. He would become a friend close enough to be called my brother. He too was wild and craved an exciting, adventurous life. It feels like another lifetime ago when he and I were boys under the care of Lord Jon Arryn. Life in the Vale was very different than life in the North."

"Speaking of that, I hoped to ask your permission to venture out into the mountains north of Winterfell. As well, could your sons accompany me as well as Lady Mormont?"

Ned thought about it for a moment. "I will send you with them as well as Tyrell and Bolton. Tyrell will go to speak with House Glover about improving their crops and increasing their harvests. As for Bolton, I must warn you that you will be soon introduced to his father, who is more than concerned for his son not returning directly to the Dreadfort."

"I will keep that in mind, my lord. Thank you."

As she was about to leave, Mya wondered about the close friend Ned made in the Vale while being fostered by Lord Jon Arryn."The other one who was fostered with you? What was his name?"

"Robert of the House Baratheon."

A/n: Hope I did not lose any readers over the holidays. Hope it turned out alright.