Winterfell

294 AC

The dull grey walls of Winterfell had faded seamlessly into the background of the wide-open field. The freshly cut green grass before the massive keep had a thin coat of morning dew. Thankfully, the road was clear of the thick ice that had been more common up North.

The ride down from the Wall had been far worse than actually getting to it. At least twice, Mormont and his two guards had been caught in the middle of a blizzard.

Mormont was no stranger to harsh conditions. He practically slept on the road most of his life. What was a little snow compared to sleeping in a wet ditch in the Stormlands?

His two guards, however, were not as keen as he was to ride blindly through a hailstorm. Fortunately, they did not begrudge him for his thrill-seeking ways. Likewise, Starag had actually found their stoic silence a sound comfort on the road.

He decided he'd have both men; Jorge and Orin, promoted once he returned from his expedition.

As they rode into Wintertown, he figured that his small party must've been an incredibly odd sight. Peasants and farm workers had begun making their morning rounds, carrying buckets and farming tools. Most had given the three riders a simple glance, ignoring the Mormont coat of arms.

Mormont himself was itching to stop at the tavern. While he could live on hard, stale cheese and dried meat, neither could hold a candle to a good bowl of lamb stew or freshly baked bread.

As they rode by the large thatch building, a serving girl had chosen that exact moment to leave the tavern. Her fair hair had gone down past her neck, and she had a bodice that seemed about ready to burst with the rack she was carrying.

Starag caught her pretty brown eyes as he trotted by on his horse. Swollen pink lips jutted out at him, and Mormont knew she liked what she saw. Her eyes seem to devour him fully, the only message was: I want you.

He winked at the blonde girl and kept riding onwards. Mormont reminded himself that he was there on business… he could fuck the girl with the big tits later.

Mormont was wondering how he'd pitch his plan to Ned. Or how Ashara and Arthur might take it. No doubt they'd call him mad, but like his father, there wasn't anything they could do about it.

This trip had already been decided before he'd arrived at Bear Island. Mormont considered himself a man of his word, and he wasn't about to stop just his family and his old friends had said so.

The small group arrived at the tall iron gate that led inside to Winterfell, framed on both sides by the tall stone granite walls he grew up with. Mormont sent a raven ahead during his short stay at Bear Island. No doubt, his old friends already knew he'd be coming.

Thankfully, he and his men-at-arms had only waited barely a minute before he saw a familiar face peek over the wall.

With his whiskery grey beard, Rodrik Cassel looked down from up high on the outer wall. Mormont could see a light smile grace his face. "Lord Mormont!" He greeted.

Starag gave a grateful nod to the older man. "Cassel. It's good to see you again."

"Likewise. Don't you worry, though! Lady Stark's whipped the kitchens up in a frenzy just for you."

Mormont grinned, turning around in his seat and glancing at the two men-at-arms behind him. "Hear that, boys?"

Both Jorge and Orin matched his smirk with toothy smiles. Mormont knew they were both in for a treat.

Ashara Stark was by far one of the kindest and most generous people he had ever met. If she wasn't married to his best friend, Mormont would've gladly trekked all the way down to Starfall and frisked her away back to Bear Island with his own two hands.

Even better, she knew just how to treat a man: by satisfying his gluttonous desire for food.

Starag Mormont was astounded.

He couldn't believe he was even considering stopping at the tavern to break his fast.

As he sat up on the high table in Winterfell's dining hall, Mormont knew he'd died and had gone to dine with the gods.

Rows and rows of fried bacon strips lay before him on the wide table, still juicy with the melted fat rolling off the delectable meat. Freshly baked loaves of bread were in a small basket within his reach. And then there were the eggs! The scrambled, delicious eggs were steaming with the scent of salt and pepper.

And that wasn't even the end of it! The serving girls had brought out a fresh pot of coffee just for him alone. Mormont grinned with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old when a much smaller jar filled to the brim with honey was put next to him.

"Uncle Starag?"

Mormont glanced at the eleven-year-old Robb Stark. The boy looked just like his mother; black hair and purple eyes. Though he had the makings of Eddard's square jaw and lean build. "Hmmm?"

Robb giggled as he realized that Mormont's mouth was full. He continued. "Why do you put honey in your coffee?" the Heir of Winterfell asked. "Maester Luwin says it's bad for your belly."

Starag swallowed the bacon strip whole. He recalled Luwin having told him something along those lines in a distant memory. "Well, the good Maester knows a lot of things. I'm sure he'd change his mind once he's tried it, though."

He never liked the Maesters too much. They wielded a sort of blind authority, and more often than not, they were slimy and pathetic old men who never kept to their vows.

Thankfully, Luwin was one of the bunch that actually had some wits about him. Though the man was terribly dull at times.

Eddard Stark reached his hand over to the jar of honey. "I'll second that." He took the pot and scooped out a large spoonful of the sweet golden ichor and sunk it into his second cup of coffee. "Nothing beats a good cup of coffee with some honey in the morning."

"Some?" Ashara Stark raised a knowing eyebrow at her lord husband. "You practically scooped out the whole jar." Her purple eyes twinkled with childish mirth.

"Do you want some or not, my lady?" Ned held the clay jar as if dangling a carrot in front of a donkey. "If not, I'll give it back to Starag and the servants will have to fetch another."

Lady Stark, proud and full of dignity, succumbed quickly to her lord husband. "You make a fair point, my love." she took the jar of honey and a spoonful for her own cup of coffee.

Mormont could only blame himself. His bad habits seemed to spread to everyone who stayed around him long enough. Once upon a time, both Ned and Ashara had made fun of him for flavoring his coffee with honey. Both had become instantly addicted that same week.

Starag for his part just kept eating his food. The road from Last Hearth was long, and gods know he needed a good meal.

"Can I try some, Father?" Robb asked Eddard, who was just about to place the jar back next to Starag. The Quiet Wolf looked to Mormont, asking the same question with his grey eyes.

Mormont nodded. Both Ned and Ashara were as ravenous as he was when it came to their coffee. No doubt their children would soon be the same.

"I want some, too!" The eight-year-old Dyanna had spoken up, a pout on her lips. Light brown eyes had wandered desperately between Lord Stark and Mormont. "Why does Robb get to try it and not me?"

Mormont couldn't resist chuckling underneath his chewing. Ashara sent a momentary glare his way as he snorted. "You're not old enough yet, Dyanna." Lady Stark answered her daughter's question.

"Can I have the honey when you're done, Robb?" Jon Stark had stopped playing with his food and had seemingly gotten curious about the commotion.

The Heir of Winterfell nodded, mixing up his own much smaller cup of coffee. He closed the lid back on the sticky jar and handed it to his brother. His cousin. Mormont had to remind himself.

Jon Stark certainly passed the mark when it came to blending in. He looked every bit like Ashara's children, but he seemed almost disturbingly like a carbon copy of Ned. With the exception of his wild black ringlets, which resembled Starag's own hair, Jon had Ned's long face and hard grey eyes.

And on the odd occasion, Mormont would see the barest hint of violet in the boy's eyes. Rhaegar Targaryen was certainly a handsome man, even if he was quite good at looking sad. Mormont could make out the Silver Prince's stern jawline on the boy, underneath the baby fat.

Robb would look like a born and bred northerner. But Jon Stark would be the pretty boy, the one that every single girl he met would flock to without hesitation. Lucky little shit.

Mormont considered himself handsome, but there were always girls who were intimidated by his sheer size alone. Which, combined with his cavalier attitude had only shut them off. Jon wouldn't have that same problem. By Starag's estimation, the boy would be about as tall as Ned was once he got older.

Mormont realized he'd been staring at the would-be heir to the throne, and hurriedly returned to his food.

He needed to steel himself. After breakfast, he was going to get the walloping of his life.

Starag had missed this.

His heart beat violently against his chest as he batted away the gleaming blade of Dawn with Longclaw in hand. Cling! Arthur had gotten slower, but the Sword of the Morning was far more skilled than he was with the sword.

"Slow." Arthur sidestepped Mormont's lunge. Any normal man would've been run clean through, but Dayne was no normal man. "Sloppy."

Mormont grit his teeth as he danced backward and readjusted his stance. Dayne was trying to get on his nerves. It was working.

With lightning speed, he suddenly swung his sword down at Arthur's legs, who widened his eyes as he registered the cut just in time, dancing away as Longclaw sliced the air.

"Slow." Mormont remarked with a grin.

Arthur couldn't resist cracking a smile in return. "Fair enough."

They had been sparring in the courtyard for a few hours now. Mormont had noticed that they'd gathered quite the audience. Up on the balcony was Ned and Ashara, while Jon and Robb watched them with Rodrik Cassel; both boys had their jaws hanging wide open.

Mormont dipped away from another speedy jab from Arthur. He countered up with an overhead strike aimed for the Kingsguard's neck, which Dayne had narrowly slipped away from at the last moment. "What's the matter, Arthur?"

The Sword of the Morning had a rather annoyed look on his face himself. "Just other things on my mind."

Mormont had only glanced at Jon Stark. The boy was still watching them spar like he was witnessing a legendary battle. "Think I know you what you mean."

"Later." Dayne said sternly. He was right, this wasn't the time.

Starag knocked Dawn off course to the right. He saw the opening he was looking for, Arthur was distracted.

Just as he seemingly moved past Arthur's defense, he widened his eyes as he was too late to realize Dayne's maneuver.

Arthur dove to his left, and before Starag could do anything, had swung his sword down between Mormont's blade and his chest.

Starag stopped suddenly when he found Dawn just inches before his exposed neck. Mormont grit his teeth in frustration. "Yield."

Arthur grinned. The shorter man stepped back and sheathed his blade. "You've gotten far better, Starag." he slapped his hand on Mormont's arm. "I could barely keep up with you."

Mormont fixed a warm smile on his face. The Sword of the Morning had been panting quite a bit during their bout. Starag could see the sweat forming on his tanned forehead. "Thank you, Arthur." he sheathed Longclaw back in its furs. "Doesn't help my frustration, though. Today was supposed to be the equalizer."

Dayne only barked an amused laugh. "Perhaps you'll have your chance yet."

Mormont turned to the table that held the water jugs that waited for them, but he was all too aware of Arthur's tricks. No, his swordmaster wanted him to be sharp at all times, he wanted to make sure Mormont remembered everything he'd been taught.

In a flash, Mormont had drawn Longclaw again and spun around, blocking Dayne's overhead strike. CLANG! Starag could see the satisfaction in Arthur's purple eyes.

Pride.

"You must've had a terrible battle, m'lord." The servant assigned to him was a girl of eight-and-ten. She was scrubbing down his naked body, her small hand hovering over the bruises left behind by the Sword of the Morning. "What was it? Wildlings?"

Mormont didn't see why he shouldn't let the girl's imagination roam wild. "Why of course." he sat back in the tub, feeling her strangely firm yet soft fingers touch and massage his muscles. "They'd gotten south of the Wall somehow… Would've killed me if it hadn't been for my reflexes"

The pretty girl's thin eyebrows shot upwards, while her eyes were clearly trying not to look at his manhood; erect and standing to attention for the short brunette who'd been given to him.

"A-and what did you do to them?" The girl had blushed scarlet when she realized his eyes were roaming her body. He imagined what kind of assets she had underneath that dress. Smaller breasts, but almost certainly an ass to behold judging from how it stuck out as she bent over.

Mormont decided to press his luck and run his hand along her curvy backside. He was pleased when he heard no objections. "There were three, all brutish and with great big beards." he used his hands to emphasize.

The girl watched him with sparkling blue eyes, completely enraptured by his tale.

"They managed to get a few hits in," he lay a hand over the bruises left by Arthur Dayne just earlier that morning. "But I kicked one away and got back up. I drew my sword and ran through the largest of the three."

"And what about the other two?" the girl asked. Her pink juicy lips were hanging open, ready to be kissed firmly.

"Ah, well. They both came for me at the same time. Luckily, I moved away and gutted one, and cut the other's arm off." He swung his arms upwards as if swinging his sword. The girl ate it up.

Her hand shot to her lips. "And then you rode all the way here? From the Wall?"

"Naturally." Starag lied. "I didn't want to spend another night in Castle Black. Those black brothers… shifty lot." he felt along her shapely rear, and he smiled when she slowly backed into his hand.

Now her head rested on her arms as she leaned against the railing of the tub. She was searching her mind for another memory it seemed. "Black brothers? You mean the Night's Watch?"

Mormont nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Who else would I be talking about? Still, the girl continued.

"I heard the little lord Jon said something about joining the Night's Watch. Do you think he'll be safe there?"

That made Mormont pause. He lightly squeezed her right ass cheek. She'd open up to him if he made good on fucking her. "What did Jon say exactly?"

The girl's soft blue eyes devoured his whole form. "Well, my sister works in the kitchens. She said she overheard the little lord telling his father that he'd join the Night's Watch just like his uncle- when he was old enough, of course."

"Why?" Mormont slid his hand up to the strings on her back that held up her dress. "He's Lord Eddard's second son. Why would he want to join the Night's Watch?"

The bathing girl pursed her lips. "Apologies, m'lord but I don't know why. The little lord was adamant, though." She shook her head sorrowfully. "He's always looking so dour in the castle. Don't think I've ever seen him smile…"

Mormont frowned. "Why? Is he mistreated here?"

She widened her eyes again. "Of course not! But…" she pursed her lips again. Obviously, she didn't want to speak poorly of her liege lord and his family. "I think he doesn't believe he belongs is all… He's taunted by the Greyjoy boy sometimes- or so I hear."

Mormont's eyes had darkened. He looked away from the girl as to not frighten her as he sat back in his tub. Of course. Ned had taken on Balon Greyjoy's spawn as a ward. Theon Greyjoy had stayed well out of Mormont's way, and for good reason.

The girl seemed concerned at his sudden change in attitude. "What's the matter, m'lord? Did I say something-"

"Nothing. Don't you worry your pretty little head." Mormont began undoing the laces deftly with his fingers.

He'd have to speak with Ned. Probably Ashara and Arthur, too. Something needed to be done about Jon Stark and now. The last thing any of them wanted was for Jaehaerys Targaryen III to live out the rest of his days as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch.

And Mormont did not fight in Robert's Rebellion just so the boy can piss his life away on the Wall.

Mormont lifted the string holding the girl's dress. Slowly, he rose out of his tub and stood upright. The girl was about as tall as his chest.

She said nothing, only breathing with anticipation as he stepped onto the cold stone floor and effortlessly picked her up in his arms, and lay her down on the nearby bed of furs.

"W-what will you do to me, m'lord?" She was intimidated no doubt. He could see the small flicker of fear in her eyes as he slid the shoulder strap of her dress down her arm. She had been a good girl telling him what he wanted to know. Therefore, she deserved the best few hours of her life.

"Nothing you don't want to do," Mormont said quietly in her ear. He felt her shudder softly in his arms once his hot breath touched her ear and neck. Her sky blue eyes looked up at him filled completely with desire. "What's your name?"

"B-Bethanie." She said with an absolutely gorgeous lopsided grin. Her eyes were now darting between his lips and his eyes. "I-I mean! My name is Bethanie, m'lord!" she added hastily.

Mormont smiled warmly as he cupped her left breast in his right hand. It was warm and soft. The nipple was hard and firm, ready for him. Him alone. "Please, Bethanie… call me Starag."

"Lord Starag." She said hypnotized as they came closer.

"Just Starag..." Mormont inched his mouth closer to hers. Her soft lips were open and inviting. Surprisingly, it had been Bethanie who had closed the distance and kissed his lips hard.

That's a good girl.