Thank you for the nice feedback! It's going to make me more pompous and arrogant than ever!

Seriously, though. I appreciate it :)

Winterfell

294 AC

Mormont had finished getting dressed, throwing his long coat back over his broad shoulders as he gazed at the softly sleeping girl laying naked on his bed. He looked out the window. It was getting dark.

He knew she'd likely miss dinner. Mormont remembered how she'd stumbled and nearly fallen over just to get a glass of water. I'll have to stop by the kitchens...

Thud, thud, thud.

Mormont's head pivoted as his eyes lay on the door to his room. He narrowed his eyes slightly until he heard a girl's voice. "Lord Mormont? It's time for dinner! Lord and Lady Stark await you in the dining hall."

He relaxed his muscles immediately and looked back to the still sleeping form of Bethanie on his bed. Mormont moved to cover up the girl's breasts with the furs and blankets. He cracked a grin when she pulled them closer and snuggled up to them, purring like a kitten with a satisfied smile gracing her soft pink lips.

Mormont strode to the door and pulled it open with one great pull. He found the other girl waiting for him. This one was much older, as Mormont had seen the wrinkles on her face before her silvery blonde hair. She curtsied to him. "Milord."

"I'll be attending the feast, but I'd like to have some food brought up here to my room as well." He patted his stomach with a light smile. "I get a bit hungry during the night."

"Of course, milord. I'll have it brought up right away." She nodded.

Mormont smiled at her and was slightly surprised to see her cheeks redden just a dash. "What's your name, my lady."

"Mildrid, my lord." the older woman curtsied again.

Kitchen gossip will be running wild, won't it? Still, he offered Mildrid his arm. "Shall we go to the feast then?"

She must've been nearing her 40s, just a few years older than Starag himself. In her brown eyes, though, he saw a youthfulness that had been tucked away somewhere. They lit up like fireworks at his sudden question. "Of course, milord."

Mormont had no intention of sleeping with her, but it would certainly help to gather more information. As they walked through the corridors of Winterfell, Mormont spoke up. "How are things in the castle, Mildrid? I've not been here for some time."

The older woman seemed enthusiastic at the opportunity to gossip. "Well!" she began in a hushed tone. "I won't lie, but we've always known that Lord and Lady Stark are… much more of a fervent couple, let's say… But these last few moons have been quite a bit awkward for us common folk."

Mormont couldn't resist smiling. That certainly sounds like Ned.

"We haven't got much sleep as of late with Lord Stark-bless his heart, of course- and the Lady Ashara coupling every night…" she gave him a concerned glance. "They're quite loud, you know? And then there's young Arya always bounding around the castle with her dirty little hands and feet- bright lass, of course, but a wild one at that."

Starag raised an eyebrow at that comment. Mildrid certainly knew how to filter herself, even when gossiping about her liege lord and his family. "Sounds like a rowdy bunch…" he paused deliberately, noticing the older woman hanging off his words. "But I'm glad they're in good hands such as yours, Mildrid."

Now the older woman fell into a full blush. "Oh, you're too kind, Lord Mormont."

"Please… call me Starag." he politely corrected her.

"Of course, my- I mean… Starag."

Mormont had to slightly duck his head as he and Mildrid descended the stairs to the great hall. "So, you were saying something about little Arya?"

Mildrid was grateful that he'd remembered. "Ah, yes. See, I don't think that one's afraid of anything really. She's only five, but she struts about the castle like she's a knight in full armor."

Starag remembered little Lyanna Mormont, and then his cousin's namesake had also sprung to mind as well. Arya Stark was no doubt the next wild wolf, a carrier of the famous 'wolf blood'. Just like Lyanna Stark.

Mormont knew they were getting closer to the dining hall, so he decided to get to the point. "And what about Lord Stark's other children? Are they as restless as their parents?"

"There's the little Brandon who seems to like climbing, but he's a good boy, always listens to his parents." Mildrid pursed her lips, deep in recollection. "Then there's the little lady Dyanna! What a lovely girl! Really takes after her mother; beautiful, and she's got a bit of a passion for dresses and such. Wish my own daughter was a bit more like that, truth be told."

"Ladylike?" Mormont suggested.

The older woman nodded her head instantly. "Of course, any good mother wants her daughter to grow up kind and ladylike. Not some barmaid or some lay-about on the street." she shook her head. "But I'm getting ahead of myself."

"There's the little lord Robb, of course." Mildrid continued. "He'll certainly be a handsome one when he gets older. Very much like his father, that one," she noted. "He's usually in the yard with Jon or the Greyjoy boy- personally I'm not too keen on that one- always sparring with those wooden swords and the like."

"And Jon?" They stopped just outside the dining hall. The bustling and laughing of the castle guard and men-at-arms could be heard inside. "What about him?"

Mildrid frowned at the question. "He's such a sweet lad, but I don't think he likes it here." she pursed her lips again. "Always saying how he'll join the Night's Watch. He likes to spend time by himself quite a bit. And…" she leaned a bit closer to him now. "Sometimes when I got to fetch some water for Lord Stark, I'll see the boy out in the courtyard. Batting away at the dummies with a sword. I've never seen so much strength in a small boy before."

Now it was Mormont's turn to frown. "And what about Lord Stark? Does he know his son wishes to join the Night's Watch?"

"I don't think the Lord takes it that seriously, though personally, I wouldn't either. We've all had childhood dreams, haven't we?" Mildrid shrugged. "I don't know if the boy means it or not, but… I'm sure he'll change his mind before long, right?"

Mormont nodded and wiped away his frown, replacing it with a gracious smile. "I'm sure. Thank you, Mildrid." he gently parted his arm from hers. "Your company was a delight."

The older woman curtsied again. "As was yours, milord. I'll have food brought up to your room fresh from the kitchen."

Starag nodded his head and turned away from the older woman. Jon Stark, it seemed, had it much worse than Mormont suspected. Mormont doubted he'd get the insightful answers he wanted from the boy himself, but perhaps having a conversation with him might help.

Mormont spied the high table far at the back of the room. He wasn't surprised when saw no sign of the curly-haired Jon Stark. For the first time in his life. Mormont decided that food can wait.

Because he had a fairly good idea where the boy was.

THWACK!

THUNK!

THWICK!

Mormont stood near the entrance to the great hall. The courtyard was empty with the exception of Jon Stark, who was beating one of the wood and straw dummies to death with his wooden sword.

The boy's form wasn't half bad. Clearly, he'd also been learning from Arthur, though Mormont knew he wouldn't be combat-ready for perhaps another year or two. Even then the boy wouldn't have the arm muscle to swing a full sword properly until he was four-and-ten.

SNAP!

The boy smashed the sword hard into the dummy, bending and snapping the thin wooden blade. The broken sword tumbled into the muddy ground of the castle courtyard.

Mormont knew the boy was angry, but Jon's face was just like Ned's; cold as ice. Starag reached into his coat and took out his pipe, lighting it easily.

The match, as small as it had been, was enough for the boy to notice his presence. Jon Stark swiveled around, eyes widening in surprise. "U-Uncle!"

Mormont put out the match and tossed it away and began walking over towards Jon, not saying a word as he blew a large puff of smoke out of his mouth.

He saw a nearby rack that had more of the thin wooden swords and nodded to it. "Get another one."

That was certainly not the reaction Jon had been expecting. Mormont figured the boy was anticipating some kind of lambasting, a verbal punishment, or even a hard gripping of his ears.

Hesitantly, Jon Stark walked over to the sword rack and took out another wooden sparring sword. He was about to turn back when Mormont said. "And one for me as well."

The boy took another blade off the rack and walked awkwardly over to Mormont, handing him the sword while trying to avoid Starag's eyes.

"Now." Mormont tested the wooden blade in his left hand. It would do. He approached the same dummy that Jon was batting at earlier. "What's he done to you?" he pointed at the dummy with the sword.

Jon had been so caught off guard that he laughed at Mormont's startling question, all the nervous tension leaving his body.

Mormont raised his eyebrow expectantly, though. "I'm serious, Jon. What do you solve by bashing away at a dummy? An opponent…" he tapped his practice sword on the dummy's wooden post. "Who literally cannot fight back."

The grey eyes had lost the brief mirth that held them earlier. Mormont saw that flash of violet amethyst in them as the boy's face became long and gloomy. "I… I don't know."

Of course, Mormont hadn't expected the boy to have all the answers. He was one and ten. But Jon Stark wanted to join the Night's Watch for a reason, and Mormont intended to find out why.

"And what do you gain from mindlessly bashing away at this dummy?" He tapped the dummy again with his sword, letting out another puff of smoke.

"Nothing." the boy answered.

"Exactly." Mormont nodded with his pipe still in his mouth. Now he raised his blade in defense with one hand. "But now that I'm here, you've got someone who can fight back."

The boy needed to let out some stress, Mormont knew. While he could've done that with the dummy, that didn't get Mormont the answers he needed. Jon Stark was a troubled lad, who didn't know what he'd do or where he'd go, so he latched onto the first thing that seemed like a worthy enough cause; the Night's Watch. He didn't know the best cause of them all was living for his own desires, dreams, and wants.

Jon looked him up and down. Mormont remembered that he was nearly twice as tall as the boy. "But-"

"No buts!" Mormont ordered. "Hit me with all you've got, boy."

Reluctantly, Jon got into a stance that looked awfully similar to Arthur's offensive style. His feet were spaced to give him room to quickly maneuver but also to keep him on balance, and his wooden sword was held out in front of him. Far better than the amateurs he saw in the Night's Watch.

Jon swung his blade forward, a cool mask on his face. Mormont easily batted it away without making a single step. The boy nearly fell off his feet.

Mormont blew another puff of smoke out of his mouth. "Come on, boy. Is that the best you've got?"

Jon narrowed his eyes dangerously and readjusted his footing. He made a hard overhead strike aimed for Mormont's shoulder. Again, Starag knocked the sword away effortlessly and Jon fell to the ground. "What has Arthur been training you in? Knitting?"

The boy snarled as he got back up. He swung this time at Mormont's chest.

Clack! Mormont blew more smoke out of his mouth as he cracked the sword clean out of the boy's hands. Jon Stark's practice sword fell to the ground.

"Pick it up," Mormont ordered. The boy huffed and puffed, but he picked it up. Mormont could see Jon begin to sweat. "Again!"

Jon made a sharp jab towards Mormont's legs, something with the Lord of Bear Island hadn't expected. Mormont swiftly danced out of the way. "Slow." But clever…

The boy followed up with a quick stab at Mormont's hand, which Starag countered by diverting the boy's sword away, sending Jon back into the ground.

Now the curly-haired boy was sweating like a man, he had mud in his black ringlets as he stumbled back to his feet and picked up the sword again. Mormont could see the fire lit behind his eyes. "Again!"

Almost with technical precision, Jon pressed forward. Swinging not to overpower, but to penetrate Mormont's defenses. Starag wore a small smile as he had to keep moving on his feet to avoid the boy's attacks. He'll be a talent with the blade when he gets older…

Finally, Mormont stepped out of the way of Jon's lunge and slammed his sword down into the boy's, snapping Jon's blade in half. SNAP! The sharp impact made the boy drop the other half in his hands.

"Ow!" Jon clutched his hands tightly. Mormont smiled kindly at him. The boy was quite the swordsman at such a young age. No doubt he'd beaten Robb or even the Greyjoy boy plenty of times. "Did you have to hit so hard?"

"Yes." Mormont threw away his practice blade, hearing it clatter against the stone granite walls. "Your enemies will try to kill you, boy. They won't hesitate to stick a blade in your gut or cut off your fingers." he blew more smoke out of his mouth. "How do you feel?"

Jon stopped massaging his hands at that question. "Better." he smiled slowly. "Much better…"

At that moment, Mormont saw Rhaegar smiling right back at him. He decided to banish that thought. "You know… I was here once. In this courtyard, same time every night. Just like you."

"Really?" Jon frowned, turning his head like a curious pup. "Why?"

Mormont looked up at the top of the wall above them. There was probably a torch up there. A much better place to sit and talk. "Come. I'll tell you."

It hadn't taken them long to climb the stairway up to the stone walkway. They quickly found a large torch and a few boxes to sit on, likely left by the guards.

Mormont checked one to make sure he could sit on it without it giving way. Jon sat on the other.

"Once upon a time…" Mormont began, sighing as he let out another puff of smoke. "I was angry at my father. He sent me to Winterfell all alone. No Jorah. No Dacey. I was living with people I barely knew. I felt like I didn't belong here."

As he suspected, that last detail made Jon perk up in his seat. So Bethanie was right after all…

Mormont continued. "I must've been around your age, or just a bit older perhaps. I was in the yard when your uncle Brandon came out of nowhere."

Jon cracked a small smile. "And then what?"

"He gave me the first real beating of my life." Mormont cracked his neck as he remembered that biting memory. He hadn't been able to lift his arms for a day. "Much worse than what you got. Told me to suck it up and I did." Mormont shook his head and grinned. "Realized… that my situation wasn't as desolate as I thought; I lived in a warm castle, with my liege lord and his family. Plenty of good food, too."

Mormont hadn't grown up rich. His family was quite possibly the poorest House in the North. There was a saying about his family; 'House Mormont is rich in bears and trees and naught else.'

And when he'd gone to live with the Starks, he got his first taste of riches and wealth and power. Mormont couldn't believe there was more to life than the minuscule Bear Island. There was a whole world that held all the riches and women he wanted…

He soon wanted the things that Rickard Stark had; the respect, the power, the ability to wield others as weapons against his enemies whenever he wanted. Mormont wanted to do with his life as he pleased…

A part of him felt pity for Robb Stark. The boy would not understand the sheer brilliance a man takes into his being when he finds his own way in life. When he finds his own money and wealth. And yes, power as well…

He'd have a bride found for him, and soon he'd have the largest kingdom in Westeros at his beck and call.

But Jon Stark? Jaehaerys Targaryen? Mormont knew this boy could be forged into the greatest man the Seven Kingdoms had seen since Aegon, or even since Brandon the Builder.

The greatest men were almost never born rich. Always, it was the men who had made something of themselves out of the fire that burned eternally in their hearts. The men who had dared to create their own empires and embark on their own conquests.

"Your father's told me you want to join the Night's Watch." Mormont lied as he looked into the dark grey eyes. "Is this true?"

Reluctantly, Jon had nodded his head, losing the smile he wore previously. "Yes."

"May I ask why?"

The boy was silent, likely caught off guard since he was finally being taken seriously. "The Night's Watch is an honorable calling…" Jon looked away. "And it's like you said… I don't belong here."

Mormont wished he had a stiff drink. "Jon. Look at me."

The boy did as he was asked.

"I'll tell you exactly what Brandon had told me about the Night's Watch, and then I'll take you back inside for a late dinner. How does that sound?"

Jon nodded again, his solemn mask practically etched into his face.

"The Night's Watch…" Mormont began. "Is nothing more than a den of criminals. Men who the world has forgotten about entirely. They whine like girls about the bitter cold and wildlings and they lay about and sneer at passersby." he blew out another puff of smoke. "They have no purpose in this world, nothing that drives them. That is why they're at the Wall. Many of those same men could've become knights if they had wanted to, or even been the start of their own House. But they chose to be poor. They chose to be stupid and lawless, and they chose to be aimless. They are exactly where they want to be."

Mormont had to relight his pipe, drawing another match. "There are two kinds of men in this world, Jon; There are those who say they want something but sit on their ass all day. And then there are those who want it and are competent and decisive and brave enough to go and get it." He sat back, leaning against the granite turret. "Which one do you want to be, Jon?"

Jon Stark was silent as the grave. Mormont remembered when Brandon Stark had asked him the exact same thing. It was almost poetic how similar this situation was.

Starag sighed as he realized that dinner was likely long past. Still, maybe he ought to let the boy think it over. "Come. Let's get you some dinner then off to bed. Understand?"

Jon looked up at him and nodded solemnly. Mormont doubted he'd get any more words out of the boy tonight.

Mormont stood up and heard the boy follow close behind him as they climbed back down the stairway and back into the great hall.

As they passed by the dining hall, Mormont saw the servants cleaning up the tables, wiping them down with a wet cloth, and taking away empty plates of leftover food. There were some guards still eating their meals, too.

Mormont stopped when he saw Mildred speaking sternly to a serving girl, who seemed to be in a hurry and had spilled some kind of sauce all over her thin dress.

"Mildrid," Starag called. The older woman turned and smiled brightly at him. She banished the serving girl and glided over to him.

"Lord Mormont-" she cut herself off. "I mean, Starag! What can I do for you?"

Starag stepped aside to reveal a downtrodden Jon Stark. "Jon here has been training hard in the courtyard." He tousled the boy's messy ringlets. "He'll be needing some food if you've any to spare."

"Why of course!" Mildrid seemed horrified, looking to Jon. "We'll get you fixed up, don't you worry my lord! A growing boy like you has to put some meat on those bones!" she squinted her eyes at Jon's hair. "Oh! And I'll have a bath drawn up for you as well!"

Mormont nodded in agreement. He was slightly annoyed that he missed dinner, but it was his own decision and he owned it. "Have it brought to his room, if you would?"

"Naturally. It'll be a good few minutes, but we'll get you some grub." Mildrid clapped her hands together. "Oh, and I delivered your food to your room, Starag…" she blushed a deep red in embarrassment. "I was quite worried where Bethanie was but I see she's been taken care of."

"Ah yes, lovely girl." Mormont smiled kindly. "Is she still there by any chance?"

"Sound asleep, milord."

Mormont nodded again. Lovemaking was going to be slow tonight, but he knew it was more for Bethanie's benefit than his own. "That'll be all, Mildrid. Thank you."

Mildrid curtsied again to both Mormont and to Jon before heading back into the dining hall. He could hear her voice whip instantly as she yelled at another serving girl. "What is that?! Clean that table again, Lena! NOW!"

Starag glanced to Jon. "You know the way back to your room, right?"

"Yes, uncle." Jon nodded. But he didn't move. The boy pursed his lips and opened his mouth hesitantly. "Uncle?"

"Yes?"

Jon blinked. "Father told me you went south once you were old enough. Why?"

Mormont almost snorted. Though he knew the boy's question was a massive improvement. As long as he wasn't thinking day and night about the Night's Watch.

He knelt down in front of Jon. "I saw all the things your grandfather had: more money and riches than I've ever set my eyes on, the power to decide a man's fate with a single word, the true love of a woman who would do anything for him, and the undying loyalty of the men who follow him." Mormont knew Jon wasn't old enough to completely understand what he was saying, but he knew that the boy would remember this moment until the day he died. "I wanted all of it."

"So, I decided to go out and take it."