Blue Lobelias, is a species of flower that only grows at the highest point of Bear Island. They can be found at the edge of a cliff, where waterfalls are present for they thrive and bloom beautifully in the cold.
Because of the place it grows, the Blue Lobelias are the hardest flowers to harvest. It is said that when a man gifts his woman a bushel of the lobelias, he truly and undeniably loves her for he would look death in the face just to get even a single stem.
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The sound of loud murmurs and footsteps outside your door is what takes your attention away from peeling the potatoes your Aunt Eden asked you to do in preparation for supper. With a knife and spud in hand, you look out the window and can't help but grow curious as to why so many of the smallfolk are heading towards Mormont Keep.
Did Lady Mormont call for a gathering you didn't know of?
Placing both the knife and potato on the table, you wipe your hands on the apron over your skirt before taking it off and making your way towards the door, grabbing your cloak and walking out of your home.
Annabel's voice then fills your ears, making you look to your side and catch her running towards you. A smile on her face and her bear cloak floating in the breeze. Her arm immediately wraps around yours as she drags you along with her, both of you merging in with the crowd.
"Hurry up!" She says out loud with excitement. "We're going to miss it!"
"Miss what?" You ask, your eyes trailing forward and meeting the massive doors of the keep where the carving of the woman draped in a bear pelt, a babe to her breast in one hand and the other, a battle ax, the symbol of strength in Bear Island, stares back at you.
"Didn't you hear?" Annabel looks at you as if you grew a second head. "The exiled Lord of Bear Island has returned."
Jorah Mormont has returned.
You knew of Jorah Mormont. The son of the late Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Knew who he was and what it was that he did that had him flee the island with his Southern wife through stories from your aunt and uncle, as well as from the fishwives that frequented the market down by the docks. You were but a child then, unknown to the mishap that befell your homeland. But as you grew, you heard the tales that constantly left the smallfolk's lips and you couldn't help but sympathize with the exiled lord. Couldn't help your frown when you heard some of the older folks curse his name and wish for his demise.
The whispers around the keep continue to grow louder as the air thickens with tension, the crowd anticipating seeing their past lord once again. Others begin to throw nasty looks your way as Annabel pushes through the throng of people to find a spot closer to the keep for her to get a good look at the exiled Mormont.
"Why can't we stay back?" You ask in obvious irritation, to which Annabel just laughs and pulls you beside her once she makes it by the steps of the keep.
"I heard Mairi say that he's a handsome man." Annabel reasons. "And I want to see it for myself."
Then silence.
The creak of the doors of the keep and the chirping of the birds are the only sounds that fill the cold air as Jorah Mormont steps out, revealing himself to the masses.
You expected to see an old man who was fast approaching his 50th, maybe even 60th, nameday, based on the stories of the townspeople. But to your surprise, what you see is a regal and handsome man, standing tall and stoic before the population of Bear Island. His body looks strong, dressed in northern garments and a longsword strapped to his side. Under the rays of the sun, his red-blond hair looks more golden than bronze, the breeze blowing against his face with features that only seasoned warriors would have. His eyes are serious and void of emotion, giving nothing away to the people that have gathered around to see him, both welcoming him home and wishing to banish him once more.
"He looks like a prince." You hear Annabel say, amazement surrounding her voice, and give her arm a gentle tug to silence her.
But you notice, or rather feel, someone looking in your direction. And when you look up, you couldn't help the blush that begins creeping up your cheeks as your eyes meet Jorah Mormont's sapphires. With how close you are to him, you could see that his eyes bear the color of the ocean, how deep in hue they were and feeling yourself get hypnotized by the beauty that they possess.
The connection only shatters when the man to his left, who you recognize as Captain Wymond, one of Lady Mormont's advisors, whispers into his ear, Jorah giving the captain a nod in response before both men make their way down the steps of the keep. You see Jorah look once more at your direction before turning his head to face forward, the crowd parting before them as they walk southward of the island, towards Crail.
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A week has passed since the exiled knight came home and you find out from your uncle after he returns from fishing that Jorah now lives among the smallfolk of Crail.
So that's where he went. You think as you listen attentively to your uncle's tale while you mix the stew that's cooking by the hearth.
"Why doesn't he live with his cousin?" You ask. "Isn't he a Mormont too?"
To which he replies after taking a hearty sip of his ale. "The North Remembers." Your aunt then takes the pitcher to refill his cup before he adds. "And I doubt the smallfolk have forgiven him for what he's done."
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The forest during the summer on Bear Island is one of the places you love going to be alone. The comfort from the sounds of nature—the rustle of the leave from the trees, of twigs snapping from the wildlife that lingered beneath the bushes, and how the birds would sing songs for the wind to take and share their melody to the mountains, as well as the crashing of the water against the rocks as they fall from the highest point of the island—is what you always seek.
Yes, a trip to the forest, be it on your own accord or to do an errand for your aunt, is something you never shy away from. You always look forward to your next visit to the earthy maze, feeling exhilarated by the freedom it gives you and making the most out of it before winter comes and forbids you to even leave your home.
With a basket in hand, you stroll into the forest with the task of gathering some wild berries for your aunt, that she would be making into a pie for your uncle's upcoming nameday. It's a simple task. A task you've frequently been doing since you were a little girl. And you have your ax with you to keep you safe from any possible danger that may arise.
You were a good way in the forest when you spot a bush of wild berries just by the edge of a stream. Immediately, you make your way towards it and bend down, taking every berry your eyes could spot and dropping them into your basket.
The basket was already a quarter full when several twigs snapping behind you catch your attention and you were immediately on your guard. As much as you love the forest in the summertime, you were still cautious of whatever animal lurking in the green. You just didn't want to get in their way, allowing them to go on with their business and letting you do the same.
You grip tightly on your basket of berries and carefully pull your ax from your side as you slowly walk towards where the sound is coming from. You swallow thickly, mustering up your courage and preparing yourself to scare off the creature that had interrupted your time in the woods. But fear immediately grips you when you see the unsuspecting bear cub playing with a pile of loose leaves. You were immediately on high alert as a bear cub would signal that its mother is just close by.
And just as you suspected, a loud roar emerges from behind you, making you turn around swiftly and come face to face with the large brown bear, standing on its hind legs, already threatening you for even coming close to its cub. Your basket of berries drop to the ground as you hold onto your ax tightly with both hands.
You know how to fight. Your uncle taught you how to wield an ax when you were just a little lass and you were confident enough to maneuver it with ease. But you couldn't help feeling scared. You've never engaged in a real battle before or even have come face to face with a real bear. By the gods, you've never even seen a live bear before. Only saw them when they've already been gutted and left to dry out in the neighboring homes. Their furs ready to be turned into cloaks and their meat to feed the people.
You try to stay strong and hold your ground, preparing yourself for the incoming assault. Silently, you begin praying to the old gods that they would guide you and that if this is to be your end, they may see the courage you've displayed and that they would bless your aunt and uncle when you are no longer among them.
Just as the bear was about to charge at you, you gasp when you see it suddenly topple over. The large beast rolls on the ground and hits its back against a massive pine tree. The sounds of a loud grunt and a low growl mixing among the trees.
You stand stock still with your ax tightly in your grip, shocked as you look at the man standing before you, a longsword in his grasp and his free hand reaching over to you to keep you behind him. The tension in the forest thickens as the bear shakes its head and gets back up on four legs. The man in front of you continuously growling lowly as if preparing himself to attack and warding off the beast if it decides to charge for your once more. But to your luck, the bear flees, the cub following its trail after and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
You lower your head and sigh in relief, thankful to be safe, but frown soon after when you spot the berries scattered at your feet. But the shadow of the man casting over you makes you look up and you couldn't prevent the blush forming on your cheeks when you see those mesmerizing blue eyes once again.
"Are you alright, lass?" The man asks and you quickly bow your head to acknowledge the presence of the knight.
"I am, m'lord." You say with sincerity, then chance to peek up at him. "Thank you for saving my life."
"I'm no lord." He simply says and bends down to pick up the berries at your feet.
You're suddenly filled with panic when you see him picking your harvest, making you drop down to your knees and quickly helping him gather them back into the basket.
"M'lord, you don't have t—"
"You shouldn't be alone out here." He interrupts and takes the basket from the ground after he drops the last of the berries in, giving it to you. "The bears usually come down the mountain to gather food before they sleep for the winter."
"I've been doing this since I was little, m'lord." You say with much conviction, tucking the basket in the crook of your arm before standing up, dusting your knees free from any dirt and looking at the man straight in the eyes, truly looking at him. "It's the first time that I've seen a bear come close."
"I'm no lord," he repeats and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.
"You are the cousin of Lady Mormont, are you not?" You ask with as much politeness as you can muster, but you can see that Jorah could sense your slight irritation. "You are a Mormont and House Mormont has ruled over these lands for generations."
"I am a Mormont, but I am a disgraced lord. An exiled knight." He argues.
"Still a lord." And you couldn't help but release a soft chuckle when he grunts at your comment.
"Let's take you home." He simply says and you don't argue any further as you walk with him out of the forest and back into town.
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Three days have passed since your encounter with the bear. Three days since Jorah Mormont saved you from your supposed end. You never told your aunt nor your uncle about what happened for fear that they would forbid you to go back to the forest alone. So, the event stays a secret between you, the berries that have turned into a delicious pie, and the blue-eyed knight.
You find yourself walking towards the docks one sunny afternoon. The commotion of the men fills your ears as they haul their catch from their boats and into the waiting baskets on the boardwalk. You crane your neck forward and look from side to side for your uncle as you walk towards his usual dock to give him the fares that your aunt had packed for him.
"Lassie!" You hear your uncle's voice resound over the chatter and smile when you find him at last, his tunic drenched from the sea and a basket of fish by his feet. "Eden sent for you?"
"Aye." You reply and make to stand in front of him, holding out the basket. "She says not to lose this one like the last. She just borrowed this from Agatha."
Your uncle laughs and takes the basket from you after you grab two of the berry tarts you brought for yourself. "Tell your aunt I be seein' you both at supper. The crew and I be headin' to the tavern after droppin' the catch down at the market."
You roll your eyes at him then laugh. You couldn't help but think how mad your aunt would be when she finds your uncle drunk again and unable to walk back home.
"Just don't find yourself in the stables again. Aunt Eden won't let you in if you smelled like horse shite like last time." You call out as you leave the docks and wave to your uncle goodbye.
As you make your way back home, you see him again. Alone by a small rowboat. A net tangled in his hands as he hauls his catch for the day. You curiously ask yourself if he sells his catch in the market like what your uncle does or keep it all for himself.
You gather up your courage and walk up to him, a smile on your face as you greet him with a 'good noon'. To your relief, he acknowledges you though doesn't say much after. But his silence doesn't deter you, making you stay by his boat and watch him finish up his task.
For some reason, you feel drawn to him. Felt a connection the moment your eyes locked with his the first time. You couldn't point out what the reason is but you guess it's the sadness you see in his eyes. The defeat you felt when he was presented to the entire island. You feel somewhat compelled to soothe it, to make him welcome. To rid him of the loneliness that emanates from him and make him feel at home.
Just like what your aunt and uncle did for you when your father abandoned you after your mother passed. How they welcomed you into your home and took care of you. Trying their best to teach you the way of life and doing so with full smiles and laughter. Not once have they made you feel that you were a burden for they always made you feel like you were their own.
"Why are you still here?" You snap out of your thoughts when you hear him ask.
"Oh, I—wanted to thank you for last time." You say with a grin and hold out a tart to him.
He looks at the pastry in your hand before tossing the net in the boat and locking up his catch in a small basket. "You already did." He responds.
"I want to say it again." You hold the tart closer to him, your smile widening when he eventually takes it.
You both sit at the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the ocean as you eat the sweets in silence. The weather was fair despite the cold and you bask in the sun as much as you could, knowing that such an opportunity would be scarce in the coming months.
"I hear you live in Crail." You start, catching the knight by surprise. "Why are you there instead of the keep?" He eyes you curiously and you couldn't hold in your giggle when you spot the crumbs left by the flakey pastry sticking on his beard.
You observe that Lord Mormont—you still call him as such, undeterred by his protests that you don't—is a quiet man. For it takes a while for him to answer your question. But he entertains you regardless and explains that he chose to live among the smallfolk not only to prove to his cousin that he has not returned to reclaim lordship over Bear Island but to live a humble life. To live in simplicity and not regality.
"I heard you served the Dragon Queen." You begin once more but regret it immediately when you not only see his sadness but feel it.
You've heard of Daenerys Targaryen. Knew from the stories of your aunt and the gossip of the fishwives how the daughter of the former king of Westeros survived the late King Robert's rebellion and escaped with her brother to the neighboring country, which she now rules over.
But you know nothing of Jorah's time with the Targaryen Queen. Not a lot of people know why he chose to follow her despite siding against her brother during the war. And why he's back home, far away from the monarch he chose to serve and not by her side where he would be expected.
"Aye." He confirms. "I did."
"If you serve her, why are you here?" You couldn't help but ask. "Shouldn't you be where she is?"
"You are not wrong." His eyes cast down into the water while his hands turn into fists. Seeing such makes you truly regret asking in the first place. But he continues. "But my desire for home had been the end of my service to her."
Now, you're the one caught off guard. How could Bear Island be the reason for him to leave? He must have known that the northerners would never forget his sin. That Lord Stark would hunt him down and take his head if he ever sets foot back in the north. Your curiosity gets the best of you.
So you ask, "You left her?"
"I betrayed her."
And you knew that his story is over. That he wouldn't speak of it any further and you didn't want him to continue either. Not because you weren't curious, quite the opposite from it, but because you could feel his pain just through his words. How desolate he looks just by answering your questions about the queen he used to serve. How hard it must be to relive once more the betrayal he spoke of.
The quiet makes itself known once more. Only the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore, the squawk of the birds in the air, and the chatter of men fill your ears.
You don't know how to ease the tension from such an emotional exchange. How to make the knight feel more at ease in your presence and not be filled with remorse of the past. You think of something to ask. A light and easy point of conversation for him to follow.
When an idea strikes you.
"Could you teach me how to fight, Ser?"
The look Jorah gives you makes you want to laugh, but you end up blushing instead when you witness how his blue eyes shine against the sun.
"It's just—" you try not to fluster. "My uncle has taught me how to wield an ax, and my aunt, how to be brave in hard times. But I know not what to do once faced with danger," you reason. "—like the bear."
"You want me to teach you how to fight off bears?" He asks, his eyes looking at you incredulously as if you've pulled a mermaid out of the sea.
"Not just bears," You smile. "But to really fight. Who knows when the krakens would raid our shores once more when the men are out at sea." You add. "I want to know what to do and to be able to defend myself when the time comes."
His eyes never leave you as you speak. A sense of relief fills you knowing that he's listening and not taking your words as a form of jest. You really do want to learn how to fight. Most of the women of the island know how to. It's what the gates of the keep represent, that the women are just as tough as the men. And what better way to learn than from a man who has not only seen battle but has been a part of them, not just against the Greyjoys, but against armies of lords.
Wasn't that the reason he turned into a knight? And to learn from a knight would be such an honor.
"Very well." His response brings a very wide smile to your face. "We start tomorrow, midday."
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"How can you win them when you are not fighting back?" Jorah asks as he swings his wooden sword for the third time and hits your shield when you lift it to defend yourself from the blow.
It's only been an hour since you started and already you're exhausted. You expected that he would hold back, that he would consider you being a novice in the art of self-defense. But you were clearly wrong.
He reasons that it was because you told him you were trained in using the ax. You even mistakenly boasted that you could wield a shield. But such skills were proven faulty when he swings his blunt sword once more, lifting your shield just in time for the impact that causes you to fall to the ground.
Your frown is enough of a response.
He sighs and makes to stand behind you, helping you get to your feet before lifting your arm that's strapped to the wooden protection. He then pushes his foot between yours and gives one a gentle nudge for you to part them.
"You fight with an ax and it's a disadvantage against a longsword." He starts to explain. "Your point of contact is small that is why you have to fight with your shield as well." He then proceeds to lift the shield to cover your face. "Every block you make gives you an opening to strike. If you block high, you swing low." He begins to demonstrate by moving your arms along with his accordingly. "If you block left, you have the advantage to strike at the right." He moves your arms in position once more. "If you only keep blocking the attacks and don't take the opportunity given to strike, then you are bound to fall."
He repeats the process again and again, once, twice, thrice, moving your arms left and right, allowing your body to get used to the weight before showing you next how to properly swing your weapon.
For days he continues to train you. And as every session ends, you become more confident in your ability to fight. You even go as far as practicing in the late hours of the evening, taking up your ax and your uncle's shield when both he and your aunt were asleep, repeating the movements Jorah had shown you in the day.
You feel yourself grow stronger day after day, moving fluidly and swiftly despite holding such heavy arms. You even start to add your own flair to the lessons. Crouching and kneeling, lifting the shield with ease, and swinging your ax as if they weren't made from wood and metal.
"Are you ready, lass?" Jorah asks with a playful smirk one cold afternoon as he lifts his blunt longsword, twirling it once and taking up his stance.
You smirk back and lift your accouterments, banging your blunt ax against your shield in response, twirling your ax like he did his sword, and letting out a battle cry when you make to charge him.
With each blow Jorah gives, you block it efficiently and swiftly with your shield and counter each one with your ax. Multiple times you're able to land a hit on either his side or his calf, causing the knight to drop to one knee and defend himself in such an uncomfortable position.
You could sense the pride in the smile that he gives you whenever you grab the opportunity for offense. How you swing your ax like it is an extension of your arm and surprise him when you slide across the ground with your knees and hit his calf once more, making him completely fall down.
A groan of pain and the cough right after makes you laugh as you make your way towards him. You give yourself a celebratory pat on the shoulder before holding out your hand for Jorah to take. But your victory is soon short-lived as Jorah makes to pull you down onto the ground, his hands gripping on your wrists tightly as he wrestles you and goes to straddle your hips, pinning you on the grass.
"Another rule in combat." He says with a smirk while you struggle to set yourself free. "Never put your guard down." And he laughs as he watches you squirm underneath him
But his laugh soon dies from his lips when his eyes meet yours. You could feel the sudden change of energy between the both of you, and you know that he feels it too, making you stop struggling from his hold but continue squirming for a whole different reason. You could feel as if your body is being set on fire and your face going red as the realization of how both of you look starts to sink in. You didn't miss the blush on his cheeks either, and how ethereal he looks with the sun burning brightly against his red-blond hair, making him shine like gold.
Slowly, he releases your arms and moves to get off of you. But you stop him and grab at the neck of his tunic, your body seemingly acting on its own accord as you pull him back hard and press your lips against his.
You could feel his body tense in your hold and how his lips are unmoving against yours. You immediately curse yourself for doing something so stupid, and to a lord and knight no less. You want to cry, you could feel the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. So you pull away and look away, quickly wiping away any evidence of your pain.
"Forgive me, m'lord." You say in a rush and move to stand from the patch of grass.
But similar to what you've done, he grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, his hands quickly finding your face and kissing your lips, claiming them with such intensity and passion.
You wrap your arms around his neck, not minding the sweat and grime clinging to both of you as nothing else truly matters at this moment. Nothing other than you and the blue-eyed knight.
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Your relationship with Jorah changes since then. You both still train like always, meeting at midday and perfecting the art of the ax. You even gather up the courage to use the longsword, to which Jorah found both funny and exciting to see your enthusiasm to learn such a weapon.
But instead of parting ways after your training, you both would walk along the shores of the island, particularly Seal Beach, and enjoy each other's company, asking him multiple questions not only about the capital but about the neighboring country.
While on other days, you both would hole up in his cottage till the early hours of the evening, talking and reading stories from books he's been granted use by Lady Mormont. He would also read to you scribes he's made during his travels in the eastern country. You've even been given the privilege of hearing him sing, to which you adored greatly. But for most nights, you would end up tangling yourselves in his sheets, something you would never complain about.
One night, you lay your head against Jorah's shoulder as he gets back in bed after blowing out all the candles. The cold air makes itself known but the fire dancing on the hearth and Jorah's body heat are enough to keep you warm.
You ask him for stories, specifically about the Dothraki, as curiosity continues to eat you about what his life had been. You smile at how passionate he sounds and how knowledgeable he's become just by simply staying and riding with them. He then tells you of the Great Khal Drogo, a friend he's made during his travels, and how he went to meet the new Khaleesi, Daenerys Targaryen.
As he shares how amazed he was at a young girl, sold by her brother to a Dothraki Khal and became queen who now rules Mereen with 3 full grown dragons, you couldn't help but sense how drawn Jorah was to her, how he must have felt so much more than awe and wonder to the silver-haired queen. And you realize that he must have loved her for him to return looking desolated after she found out about his treachery.
"You love her." You say and you couldn't help but feel your heart break thinking that his answer would be 'yes'.
And how could he not? From how he describes her, she sounds like the most beautiful woman a man would ever lay eyes on. She has power and strength. And most of all, she's a queen. And you? You are nothing more than a daughter of a fisherman who was left in the care of her aunt and uncle. You are no queen, not even a lady. It would be completely stupid of Jorah to love you and not the Dragon Queen.
"Loved."
"What?" You blink your eyes to shake away your thoughts and look up at Jorah.
"I loved her."
"Do you still?"
"I love you." he confesses and leans down to press his lips against yours, your eyes closing and your arms wrapping around him, clinging to him tightly as he moves to lay himself atop you and whispering in a deep voice. "And let me show you how much I truly love you."
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For three months, you have been nothing but happy with Jorah Mormont. Your uncle and aunt have been slightly hesitant about your relationship with the exiled knight, his past lingering in the air whenever Jorahmade to visit your home. But countless times, Jorah has proven to them that he is worthy of your affections. That he's the man you've chosen to give your heart to. And slowly, they've grown to adore him just as much as you do.
It even came to the point that Jorah started to go fishing with your uncle and his crew. The men being protective of you as they've known you since you were little. But just like your aunt and uncle, they all warmed up to the previous lord of the island, and inviting him to nights at the tavern which made you smile one morning when you found both Jorah and your uncle nestled in the barn, covered in hay, after a celebratory catch the previous day.
It's a cold evening like no other and you find yourself on a hike with Jorah to one of the highest waterfalls on the island. It's one of the places you frequent when you want to be alone or bask in the beauty of your home, so the sudden invitation for an evening stroll was nothing but pleasant.
Once you reach the top, you look in awe as you peer to the horizon, the purple hue of the sky kissing the royal blues of the ocean.
Jorah then leads you to a clearing and makes you stay by a tree, his eyes wandering around as he places both his hands on your shoulders.
"Stay here for a while." He instructs and you look at him in disbelief and with one raised eyebrow.
"You're not going to leave me here alone, are you, Jorah Mormont?"
"Never, my love." He responds with a smile. "Just close your eyes and I will be here before you know it." He then presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, waiting for you to do as he bid, giving your cheek a gentle caress before leaving you alone.
You stand there for a while, relishing in the sounds of the night. The rustle of the trees from the nocturnal animals and the crash of the water against the rocks waiting below. The winter chill is among you and you're glad to have Jorah's winter cloak keeping you warm. You nuzzle against the fur, taking in his scent of pine and leather and basking in the comfort it gives you.
Then you feel him return. You could always sense him when he was around. But you could also hear his footsteps against the damp grass and his scent that you've come to know so well. You smile when you hear him clear his throat.
"Open your eyes."
You couldn't stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you see him down on one knee, his face shining against the hues of the sky and his eyes so blue that you could drown in them. But what catches your breath is the bundle of flowers—not just any kind, but blue lobelias—in his hand.
You know what they mean. What the women in town giggle about when their lover gives them such a precious gift. And you couldn't believe that Jorah is offering you the same thing, that you of all people would have the privilege of receiving the lobelias from a knight.
"I cannot offer you anything for I have nothing but the clothes on my back." He starts and your hands fly to your mouth as tears begin to spring from your eyes. "But I offer you my heart, My Love." You could see the nervousness in his eyes but you nod and will him to continue. "I will protect you until my last breath and love you until the stars burn out. I ask you to be my wife, and I, your husband—if you'll have me."
You couldn't believe what is happening. Couldn't believe that such a man would even ask you of such a thing. You wipe away the tears that roll down your face and smile as you take the flowers from his hold and press them against your nose to take in their scent.
It's now become one of your favorites, along with the smell of pine and leather, for it reminds you of him. Of his devotion to you. Of his love.
Placing a hand on his face, you rub your thumb against his cheek and lean down, answering a breathy 'yes' before pressing your lips against his.