Winterfell

294 AC

Starag woke up to a ray of sunlight blinding his vision, the golden glow that entered through the diamond shaped window blinding him temporarily. He nudged his head slightly to the right, just a bit out of the way of the light.

There were curtains of wavy chocolate brown hair strewn on his chest, the owner's head gently shifting just below his shoulder while her arms were wrapped around his neck and torso.

Mormont felt Bethanie's head stir and lift off his skin. She cracked open her eyes and smiled dreamily at him. "Good morning., m'lord…" she reached up and kissed him on his neck.

"Good morning, my dear…" Just like that, Mormont felt himself get hard. He didn't know how early it was, but he didn't really care. He cupped her breasts in his hands and kissed her back, feeling the pretty girl slide her leg over his body.

Bethanie had wrapped both her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the lips. Mormont felt her grind on top of his full length, he could feel her wet core ready to invite him inside to its soft warmth.

"You know…" Mormont knew what the girl was trying to get at. "If you tease me, I'll have to punish you." He felt her juices drip onto his stomach. If anyone was going to lose this battle, it would be her.

Bethanie leaned down slowly towards his ear, her bare tits rubbing hard against his chest. "Maybe that's what I want, m'lord…"

Mormont narrowed his eyes dangerously and flipped her over in an instant.

"Oh!" Bethanie giggled as she fell back onto the furs, biting her lips with anticipation. Mormont guided himself inside her, feeling her warmth wrap around his cock. He felt her wrap her arms around his neck as he plunged deeper inside of her and-

Thud, thud, thud.

Starag cast an annoyed glance at the door. He lamented that he'd have to answer and reluctantly pulled out of the now frustrated Bethanie.

"Come back!" she said with a childish pout. "They'll go away."

Mormont shook his head. "No, they won't." He said gruffly and looked back to his companion. "Cover yourself."

Bethanie did as she was told and pulled up one of the bear pelts on the bed while Starag wrapped a nearby towel around his waist.

Thud, thud, thud, thud! The knocks were louder this time.

"Coming," Mormont said. He pulled open the door to reveal a startled Mildrid, her silvery blonde hair in a new braid. "Morning, Mildrid."

"Good morning, mi- Starag." the older woman curtsied to him again. Her eyes briefly peered past him and at the half-naked Bethanie on his bed. "Lord Stark wishes to see you. Immediately."

"I see." Mormont nodded. Fair enough. he frowned when he saw Mildrid's eyes wandering to his chest. He snapped his fingers. "And where is Lord Stark?"

"Ah, of course!" the older woman chuckled nervously, her cheeks reddening. "Lord Stark is in the courtyard overlook."

Starag figured Ned was probably watching his sons train with Arthur. If Mormont was fast enough, he could get a quick practice session in with Arthur. "And when is breakfast?"

"In an hour," Mildrid answered, touching her braid idly. "If there's anything else you need…"

"I'll be fine. Thank you, Mildrid." Mormont closed the door and turned around. Instantly, Bethanie let the covers fall to the bed, revealing her perky breasts and hard nipples.

"What's going on?" The young girl asked him as he unwrapped the towel.

Mormont searched for his trousers among the scattered clothes on the floor. "I have to meet with Lord Stark. Immediately."

He felt a pair of soft arms wrap around his neck. Mormont turned around and felt Bethanie jump up and lock her toned legs around his waist. He felt her cunt slick wet against his hardened cock. "That's a shame, m'lord… Just when we were getting to really know each other." She kissed him firmly on the lips. "When did you say you had to leave?"

"Immediately," Mormont repeated, and then looked out the window. Then he looked back into Bethanie's sky blue eyes. He saw the uncharacteristically predatory gaze that all women have for the men they want to sleep with…

Maybe Ned can wait a few minutes…

"Almost immediately." He said right before he crashed his mouth against hers.

Mormont found Ned standing alone on the balcony overlooking the castle courtyard. The Lord of Winterfell was gazing down into the yard with an intensity that most men likely weren't capable of.

Starag came up beside him and posted his hands on the railing. He didn't say anything.

"You're ten minutes late." Eddard gave him an amused glance. "I heard from Mildrid that you 'borrowed' the cleaning girl. I'll assume that she kept you?"

Mormont shook his head. "No. My choice."

"But she convinced you." Lord Stark wore a crooked smile.

Starag shrugged. "Look, Ned. My hands were tied."

The Quiet Wolf let out a loud chuckle and shook his head. "Always the ladykiller." Eddard quickly fixed his face again with a stern stare as he looked back down into the courtyard.

Mormont followed his eyes to the scene below. He smiled when he saw Jon and Robb sparring, with Arthur pacing around them as they battled within a circle of salt.

"How long have they been at it?" He asked the Lord of Winterfell.

Ned pinched his chin. "Just under an hour." he said. Lord Stark shrugged his shoulders. "Arthur's been training them for a good few years now, but now I suppose he'll really be going hard on them."

Mormont nodded his head. "Sounds about right." Arthur always was a brutal teacher. Always working a man down to the hundreds of bones in his hands and fingers. He had done that with Starag himself. He chuckled as he saw Jon parry one of Robb's jabs. "He'll make those two into the greatest swords in the Seven Kingdoms. I can see Robb beating those southern lords with ease in a tourney."

Eddard grinned at his old friend. "Thank you, Starag." Though he immediately set his face into a slight frown. "Though now that you mention it…"

Starag knew that tone of voice. It belonged to the Lord of Winterfell, not Ned Stark. This is why he wanted to talk so early. "Has Maege told you?"

Lord Stark nodded. "Got her letter a few weeks back," he informed.

Eddard turned to him, leaning his back against the railing. "She told me what you plan to do…" He cracked a grin. "It certainly has you written all over it."

Starag shrugged. "And what did you think?" He genuinely cared for the man standing next to him. Which wasn't something he could say about a lot of other people in Westeros.

"I know you can pull it off." His old friend nodded. "Maege is worried, of course. She thinks it's outlandishly risky-which it is- and has asked that I pay off the debt so you can come home."

Mormont felt that stirring within his chest. He slung an arm around Eddard's shoulders. "Thanks, Ned. I'll be handling this one, though."

"That's what I told her." Lord Stark nodded in kind. "You've always had a knack for outlandish risks. Don't expect this one to be much different."

He'd thought of this scheme years ago, but had never really taken it seriously until now. Since he was up for lordship, he might as well go all in. Most believed that one tourney was more than enough. The travel time and expenses were far too much.

But not Starag Mormont. No. He lived for traveling on the road. The fact that three different tourneys were going to happen down south at this time was more than a stroke of luck.

It was a gift from the gods.

Mormont separated from Eddard when he saw Jon divert Robb's wooden sword away from him and sent the Heir of Winterfell into the wet dirt. Just like Starag had done to Jon the night earlier. The boy learns fast…

"So you'll do every contest in these tourneys?" Ned asked with a smile. "Joust. Melee. Even the archery contest?"

Starag nodded, though he was entirely reluctant to pick up a bow. It wasn't something he was particularly gifted at. "I've got to if I want to make more gold dragons then I have to pay off." he shook his head as he recalled Jorah's colossal fuck up. "45,000 gold dragons isn't a whole lot, yet it stands up considering I've only got a few hundred on me."

Ned's eyes had darkened at his inadvertent mention of his brother. Starag cursed himself. He should've known this was a sore topic for Ned. One of his most trusted bannermen had committed one of the vilest acts in Westeros and escaped to Essos with his tail between his legs to escape punishment.

Now, that same bannerman's brother had come along and come up with an incredibly deranged plan to pay off his family's debt and win back their honor. It was something that nobody in their right mind would consider in the least.

Mormont had always detested slavery. And the fact that his brother Jorah had been so desperate to please his Lynesse that he'd singlehandedly shamed their family and the North by selling poachers… It all left a bad taste in Mormont's mouth.

Lord Stark must've realized he let himself get gloomy, and quickly fixed a firm smile on his face. "Too bad you can't bet on yourself then. You'd take everyone's money that way," he said as he continued watching his sons train. "Probably double, or even triple your winnings…"

Mormont knew all too well the rules of a tourney, especially the one that Ned was talking about. The contenders could not bet on themselves, otherwise, knights like Jamie Lannister could easily clean everyone out. Besides, if it wasn't a rule, Mormont would've taken advantage of it long ago.

But the prospect of making triple his potential winnings was too tempting. How else could he-

A flash of wild inspiration had struck Mormont like a lightning bolt shot down from the sky. "Ned…" his mind was running wild with the question. "What about the contender's squire?"

"Hmmm?" Eddard looked over to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Mormont looked Eddard Stark square in the eyes. "Could the contender's squire bet on his own lord?"

Ned had seemed out of the loop for several seconds, at least until it clicked in his own mind what Starag was getting at. Stark's eyes widened in realization. "I don't know…" he turned to a guard standing about fifteen feet away from them. "Get the Maester. It's urgent."

As the guard nodded and hastily went back into the keep, Eddard turned back to Mormont with a shining curiosity in his eyes. Mormont felt the thunder beat wildly in his heart. If he was right, he may not even have to bother with the stupid archery contests…

Ned seemed more than excited himself. "If you had a squire who could bet on you…" The Lord of Winterfell gripped his own chin in deep reflection. "That might just do it…"

A few moments later, Luwin had hurriedly come into the overlook with the guard. There was a worried look on his face as he marched over to the two men. "My lords! What's happened? Is one of the children hurt?" he looked back and forth between the two men.

Eddard nodded to the guard, who walked briskly back to his post, and then he looked to Luwin. "Lord Mormont and I have a rather important question regarding tourneys."

Luwin frowned. "T-tourneys?" Now even the Maester was confused, and all that could be heard was the rattling of the chains dangling from the old man's neck. "I thought-"

"We know that the contenders in a tourney can't bet on themselves, right?" Mormont felt a twinge of guilt for having rattled the old man, but then again… It was a rather important matter.

The Maester nodded quickly. "Of course. If that was the case, then each contender would bet on themselves. As it stands, contenders are prohibited from betting at all."

"But what about their squires?" Mormont asked. "Can a contender's squire bet on their own lord?"

Luwin's face had gone blank, his eyes searching the air like he was reading letters and words in front of him. "That's a good question, my lord…" the old man pursed his lips. "I'll have to check my books. I've never heard of such a rule before. Should take but a few minutes to find…"

Mormont looked at Ned and found his old friend looking back at him with that same excited glint, that same childish curiosity in his eyes. "Let's go." They both said at the same time.

It only took them a few minutes to find the library. They marched down the hallway in silence. The anticipation within each of them burned with a salacious curiosity.

They entered Winterfell's great library and immediately spread out. "The latest codex on tourneys should be somewhere in here," Luwin said. "I distinctly remember it was 'Jagenfall's Thirteenth Edition of Medieval Sport And Armaments'".

"So sections 'J' or 'T' then?" Ned asked the Maester.

"Should be, my lord." Luwin nodded, the old man seemed more than curious at what the answer might be. "I'll check section 'J'".

Mormont nodded. "I'll check 'T'".

"So will I." Eddard walked briskly to the wall of books with the label 'T' etched in silver on the dark brown wood bookshelf. It was by far one of the largest.

Mormont poured over tome after tome, his eyebrows knitting in frustration as he kept finding children's books or unrelated books on flowers. He almost nearly threw out one that said 'Madame DeClair's Illustrated Guide on Knitting' It's both in the wrong section AND it exists. Why?

"Found it!" Eddard shouted. Mormont could hear the enthusiasm in his friend's voice. He immediately walked over to the desk that Ned had laid the rather thick tome on. The Maester appeared just a few moments after.

"Excellent!" Luwin sat down at the desk and flipped open the book. He quickly poured over the glossary and table of contents until he found something. "Ah! There, tourney rules and regulations since 257 AC to present day." The old man pointed a boney finger at the small printed line.

Mormont felt the suspense build up in his chest as he realized he could potentially make a fortune from this last tour of Westeros. Come on, I've not asked for anything yet… grant me this one favor. He prayed in his thoughts to the Old Gods who were listening. Grant me this favor, and I swear I'll become a good man of the gods. I'll finally settle down on Bear Island and fall in love with a good woman. I'll give her five strong and healthy children or more. I don't care. I'll be the best lord I can be to my people, and I'll protect my lord and king until the day I die.

As the elderly Maester flipped the large mass of pages, Mormont felt his heart skip a beat once Luwin began running his finger along the page that had the extensive collection of tourney rules and regulations on it.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, steeling himself.

"There's no rule, my lords."

Mormont shot open his eyes. He bent down and looked at the flooded page. "What do you mean?"

Luwin seemed half startled himself. "I mean there's no rule prohibiting a squire from betting on his own lord." He flipped the next few pages and swiftly scanned over them. "Nothing. Squires can bet on their own lords if they wish to."

Mormont felt the largest wave of relief flood over him and his sense as he nearly stumbled backwards. Realization hit him instantaneously as he stood up straight.

I need a squire.

"And the Tyrells? What have they been up to recently?"

After dinner Mormont, Ned, Ashara, and Arthur had retired to Ned's solar. Mormont sat in front of the fireplace while Arthur paced the room behind him. Ned and Ashara sat together, with the latter sitting on her husband's lap.

"I've not heard anything from Gerold as of late." Arthur shook his head. "He should be sending a letter soon. Last I heard from him was the Tyrells were planning on setting up a betrothal between Margaery and Joffrey."

Ashara snorted. "Of course they were." Her raven black hair was in one of those northern braids. "Has Gerold told them about Jon?"

Her brother shook his head again. "No. Mace is cozying up to Robert, and Loras is half in love with Renly."

"And what about Willas or Garlan?" Eddard spoke up now. "Those two are good men. Clever, too."

"And don't forget the Queen of Thorns," Mormont added idly and all three looked at him. "She can keep a secret. If you've got a good offer for her, she'll back us up."

Arthur nodded his head in agreement. "The Tyrells are important, but they won't help us if we only have one kingdom at our back." he pursed his lips. "I want to bring on the Martells."

It was Ashara who spoke up now. "Are you sure? Oberyn and Doran absolutely despise the North. They'll only talk with us because you and I are here."

"They hate the Lannisters far more than the North, especially for what they did to Elia and her children." Arthur reminded his sister. "The enemy of my enemy…"

"Is my friend." Mormont finished his teacher's sentence. "Arthur's right. We've spent too long trying to be careful. It's about time we crack a few eggs."

The Sword of the Morning nodded his thanks, and Mormont nodded back. Ashara only looked to Ned, who seemed to be deep in thought.

"If we do bring on the Tyrells and the Martells, we'd still only be three kingdoms against four." Ned downed the rest of his ale. "Not exactly a winning hand."

"Maybe." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "But the Tyrells have the largest army and cavalry, and the Martells are notoriously crafty. Not to mention Oberyn has his Sand Snakes. We may be able to stop a potential war before it's even started."

"Poisoning?" Ned sneered in disgust. "Why not just throw wildfire at our enemies as well."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the Lord of Winterfell. "I'll do what needs to be done to see my king on his rightful throne."

Mormont knew this conversation was well worn between the two men, judging by how Ashara had winced. He decided that it was his turn to interject. "If I may be so bold…" he rumbled, blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth.

Both Ned and Arthur looked away from each other to look expectantly at Starag. He continued. "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves." He took his pipe out of his mouth. "Perhaps we ought to start with one step at a time."

Ned nodded stiffly at the suggestion, while Arthur only kept his eyes on the Young Bear and waited for him to elaborate.

An unexpected burst of brilliance had entered into Mormont's mind. They'll surely say no… But… There was always a chance, right? He wouldn't know unless he tried.

"How about this," Mormont folded his arms. He was adding far too much unnecessary risk to his plate… but he was a man of the gods now. He had faith. "When I head south, I'll take along a few letters. Correspondence from both you-" he nodded at Ned. "And you-" Then again to Arthur.

"I know the Tyrells personally. They're my good-family after all." Mormont saw the flash in Arthur Dayne's purple eyes. "I'll deliver it straight to the Queen of Thorns. Then… I'll bring one to the Martells."

All was silent in the Lord's solar as Eddard, Ashara, and Arthur processed Starag's offer in their minds again and again. Mormont felt the calculating purple and grey eyes watching him.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, he was uncharacteristically tentative. He was considering the offer. "You've already done more than enough by keeping Jon's identity a secret. I don't want you getting killed on our behalf."

Mormont shook his head. "You misunderstand, Arthur." He grinned at the Sword of the Morning. "As a knight and lord of the realm, I'm duty-bound to my king. Besides, when I rob those southern lords of all their gold and riches, I'm going to create quite the roster of enemies anyways."

"Might as well, then." Ned's chuckle broke the tension in the room. "Never change, Starag."

Mormont smiled at his old friend. "Too bad you've got me as bannerman, Ned. There are all kinds of chaos I've got planned for the lords of the North."

Eddard shook his head while Ashara only giggled into her husband's ear. Even Arthur managed to crack a smile.

"So?" Mormont wiped away his smile, donning his serious face. "What about it, then? I'll bring on the Tyrells and the Martells AND get my gold all in one."

Lord Stark and the Sword of the Morning both exchanged a look that indicated they both seemed to agree on the offer. It was Eddard who looked back at him. "As long as you come back alive. Don't know what we'd do without you."

"I agree." Arthur had quiet placed a hand on Mormont's large shoulder. "Sometimes I worry about you, Starag. But…" he paused and smiled warmly. "You've no idea how proud I am."

Just wait until you hear what else I have to say… "Thanks, Arthur."

Like that, the matter was settled. Mormont would take letters to both Olenna Tyrell and Doran Martell, and then he'd ride back through the North with all his gold and settle down on Bear Island with a good woman and his children and cousins.

But there was just one more thing...

Ashara clapped her hands together to bring the silence to an end. "Well! Now that we've got that out of the way, there's one thing I've been dying to know…"

Everyone present looked at Lady Stark as she gave Starag a curious glance. "Have you picked a squire for your tour yet?"

Now all eyes were back on Mormont. Here we go.

Mormont sat back in his chair and stuck his pipe back in his mouth. He hadn't picked a squire yet. Not officially. But there was a maddening thought that had occurred to him the night before.

Jon had asked him about the south. Does the boy wish to go south? Or just to travel? Was the Night's Watch just an excuse to leave Winterfell?

Starag steeled himself as he made his decision. He'd take Jon Stark- Jaehaerys Targaryen- with him on his final road trip to the various tourneys happening in Westeros in the next few months.

The boy wasn't too keen on staying in Winterfell, it seemed. Here, he was coddled and felt out of place, like he didn't belong.

But if the boy went with him. If he took Jon on a trip he'd never forget, literally an experience of a lifetime to show the boy just exactly the kind of things he needed to experience life to the fullest…

Yes… Jon would find some degree of purpose on this journey… He'd be able to realize the things that Mormont was talking about really existed. Then the boy wouldn't be so fixated on going to the Wall. He wouldn't have to care because he'd be entranced with the rest of the country he was going to rule over one day…

Mormont realized the sheer magnitude of the opportunity that lay at his feet. It was one of those golden ideas, one of those mythical occasions in which everyone can win.

Jon would finally find his zest for life. He'd live for himself and he'd realize that there's more to life than a twisted concept of duty and honor. The Wall be damned, Jon might just feel duty-bound to help the people of Westeros. Hopefully, he'll be a better man than Rhaegar...

Eddard and Arthur would get the allies they might need one day. Robert was not exactly popular among the lords of Westeros, despite the smallfolk's love for the Stag King. Either Robert would kick the bucket or one of the nobility might do it for him. When that day would come, Mormont knew that Westeros would be thrown into some kind of chaos, though he wasn't sure what exactly quite yet.

And Mormont would get his fortune in gold, pay off Jorah's debt, and have more than enough leftover to flex his newfound riches on the rest of the poor northern lords who didn't like him. Fucking Glovers…

Mormont blew out another puff of smoke and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to say. "Well… Not really, but there is one candidate I'm thinking of…"

"Who?" Ashara leaned forward slightly, and so did Eddard. Arthur raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity. The Sword of the Morning was definitely not going to like what he had to say.

Starag wore a brave smile. "I want to take Jon as my squire."