All the rights are to GRRM and HBO. I own nothing.

It had been a rather warm summer day, especially this far north. She had been confined to the keep due to her advanced pregnancy, but still managed to catch some sun rays, ambling awkwardly to the balcony. She could see a storm brewing to the West, the looming dark clouds slowly gathering, preparing for their onslaught on her family's island. "Nature can be fickle in these parts", she thought, protectively caressing her swollen belly.

When the first drop of rain touched her cheek, the first contraction wracked her body, almost making her fall. She slowly made her way to a nearby chair, and called her lady in waiting, who in turn mobilized the whole keep. The lady was about to give birth.

Maege Mormont wasn't not unfamiliar when it came to pain. She had grown up with a sword in her hand, though she grew to favour the mace. She had bled on the sparring fields, she had bled on the battlefield. She also believed herself to be made of sturdy stuff. Aye, on Bear Island, one needed to be strong or the very lands that sustained them would eat them alive. Harsh winters, Wildlings and ravers from the South had made her people into fighters, and she was on par with some of the greatest among them.

Which is why her current predicament left her somewhat unnerved. It was her third childbirth, and she had never felt more debilitating pain. Not when she broke her leg as a child, nor when she had Dacey or Alysanne. This, this was a fight, she thought, one she had no intention of losing.

"Have at me, you little shit!" she heard herself yell in between wails of agony, "Have at me!". In between cursing her husband and crushing the hand of the poor midwife that was at her side, she truly looked like she was in for the fight of her life. After what seemed like hours of agony and torture, she finally felt deliverance and laughed, victorious once again, and proud.

"It's a strong boy, my lady" she heard the slightly shaky voice of the aging maester. Fear took hold of the Mormont's heart, however, when she failed to hear the cries of her child. "What is it, maester Lowry? What's wrong with my boy?". With panic coursing through her veins, she feebly but unsuccessfully tried to get up and reach for the silent bundle held by the old man.

The maester, however, was staring, transfixed, at the small creature in his hands. "He is fine, my lady, he just doesn't seem to want to cry, is all."

"Most peculiar..." he added, talking to himself more than anything. "Give me my child, maester." the she bear ordered, and the man, shaken out of his reverie, slowly made his way around the bed and handed her the rather large bundle, now that she had a closer look.

Maege couldn't help but agree with the old fart's thought. Peculiar was what she would say about the babe in her arms. He was looking at her, his honey coloured eyes taking in the face of his mother. He was not crying, just quietly watching, as if being just born was just as normal as waiting for a meal. He was hairy, she noticed, and rather large for a new born. Looking at her newborn, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lip. After Dacey and Alysanne, she was a tad afraid that she wouldn't give any sons to her dear husband. But here he was, her little bear, quiet and hairy, just as a bear should be, she concluded.

Tearing her eyes from the placid face of her son, she looked up to see, Torrhen entering the room, still clad in furs and wet from the rain. he quickly shed his coat and kneeled by her side, gently kissing her forehead. "I came as soon as I heard, Maege. How is he? How are you? The midwife said it was a difficult birth, shall I fetch you sustenance, love?" Maege smiled at her usually gruff and stoic husband and kissed him to stop his fussing.

"It's all right, everything is all right. meet your son, Torrhen. See how big and strong he looks." she said handing the babe to her husband, pride etched in her features. "Aye", he responded, taking stock of his boy, "He will be a fine bear, when he gets big, I can see it". One wouldn't expect a man like Torrhen to speak with such fondness in his voice, yet he found himself melting at the sight of his boy. "Your brother will be happy" he said a wry smile on his face, " he is been grumbling about not having enough men in this keep."

With a chuckle, he handed the babe back to his mother, still kneeling by her side.

" What will you name him?" he asked. Without much hesitation, she answered "Beor... Beor Mormont".

The man ran his fingers through his beard, mulling the name over. "Aye", he said, nodding, "that is a strong name, fit for a man of the North:

"Fit for a bear of Bear Island, my husband" Maege retorted, a proud smile on her face. The boy jolted at that, as if punched awake.

The horrifying wails of young Beor Mormont could be heard all the way to the Neck, that night.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Welcome to my first story ever. It's a semi self insert story, I guess. I planned on adding some supernatural element, bit only in the OC. In short he will be similar to Beorn from The hobbit i.e. a werebear. Keep in mind, I've never written anything intended for others to read, so be kind, I beseech you. And I'm typing this on my phone as I go so don't expect Shakespeare or anything. That's enough for now, I suppose. Cheers to you all.