King's Landing

294 AC

Mormont had slept in.

The sun had peeked into his tent through the thick cloth. There was a light breeze in the air today. Perfect weather for the crossing of swords.

Even though he'd missed his morning run and swim, as he cracked open his deep blue eyes and looked around his green tent, he remembered the events of the night before, as well as the competition before that. He'd gotten plenty of exercise the night prior.

He heard a soft contented sigh emit from something on his chest. Starag glanced down and saw the prone sleeping form of Ruby, who was lying stark naked against his lean and hard body. There was a small line of drool sliding down from her thin pink lips.

Those golden blonde curls covered his bandaged arm, making him wonder if he'd ever been injured at all.

A single clench of his muscles had only sent another agonizing wave of pain in his right arm. He gritted his teeth as it stopped right at his torso. "Agh…" Starag groaned as he shifted on the bed.

Just like that, his lover had woken up. Her crystal blue eyes had peered up at him, watching him with the devotion and tenderness one often enjoyed from a young woman. Ruby's pointed chin had posted upon his chest as she slowly massaged his right arm.

Almost immediately, Mormont had felt the tight and constricting pain in his arm die away as Ruby's delicate, yet oddly firm fingers had stroked and pressed into the muscles in his arm. I don't know how she does it…

When his breathing had calmed, she climbed up his body and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying lazily in the crook between his arm and his side. Underneath the sheets, one of her toned legs had coiled like a snake around one of his own.

"Good morning." He said. He cupped the girl's face with his left palm and kissed her firmly on the lips. Her naked breasts had hardened against his skin in response.

Ruby smiled softly. "Good morning." She repeated back to him and bit her lip. "Did you enjoy your prize, Ser Bear? Your Maiden Fair?" She giggled like a little girl upon saying the last few words.

He had. The irony of their little tryst had not escaped him when he had heard the bards sing that lovely song the night before.

Mormont had fucked Ruby any way he'd desired the night before. Tossing her here and there, taking her from behind, laying her on her side, and then he had held her tenderly in his arms as they made love.

Sex was not entirely enjoyable for men, he had found. It was fun at the end, of course, but it was exercise all the same. Mostly, it was the woman involved who would receive the most comfort, the most pleasure out of the two parties.

There was an inkling of guilt that he felt for the neighboring tents. Especially Jon and Wendel. He hoped he hadn't kept them up all night long.

"I fear you're a maiden no longer, my dear." Mormont had laughed at the sudden redness of the young woman's cheeks. He had taken the girl's maidenhead.

Ruby, with a scandalous grin on her lips, had grabbed one of the nearby pillows and hammered it down on Mormont's face. "You take that back, Ser!" She said as she slid her thighs over his waist. "I'm a fair maiden who has been taken by a great big bear. It's not my fault I couldn't fend for myself…"

Her core was wet on the length of his hardened cock. She ground her hips against his own again and again. Mormont shoved aside the pillow and slid his hands down her thin waistline and right to her toned thighs. He squeezed her behind firmly. "Well, oh fair maiden… I'm a bear who likes honey quite a bit, as you know." He said as he picked a lock of her beautiful golden hair.

White teeth bit down into those thin pink lips as she gazed down at him. "Can you… do that thing you did last night? The thing with my hair?"

Mormont raised a curious eyebrow at the young woman straddling him. He didn't see why he shouldn't. That didn't mean Starag was going to make it easier for her. "And which thing was that? You'll have to be more specific."

"You know." Her crystal blue eyes were accusing, yet her summer tanned cheeks had only flushed further into a deep embarrassing red. "What you did… with your hands…"

"Oh…" Mormont's hand rested on the back of the girl's neck. It was warm and pulsing with blood and dried sweat from lovemaking. "You mean this?" He asked as he moved his hand up the base of her scalp and took a firm handful of Ruby's golden hair.

He pulled her hair back, taking her head with it. Something changed in those crystal blue eyes as they gazed lovingly at him. There was something primal and lustful in them that only made Mormont want to have her again.

Ruby collapsed on his chest again once he let go of her hair. Her hard nipples raked against his skin, her core was dripping wet on his thigh. Still, she managed to control herself and rest her chin on her hands atop his breast. Her mouth was just inches away from his.

"When…" she paused hesitantly, tearing her gaze away from his own. "When will you be back in King's Landing?"

When Mormont hadn't replied, she continued, adding hastily. "I-I know you're always traveling… and Master Tobho told me you'll be living in the North, but…" She didn't finish her sentence.

Guilt had flooded into Mormont's mind then as he looked at the almost crestfallen young woman. What the fuck was he doing? She was in love with him and he just came along and took her maidenhead…

No other man she met would compare to the brutal and loving Starag Mormont. And last night at the feast… he'd seen how energetic and excited Ruby had been.

On top of all of that, Mormont would have to leave. And he wouldn't be coming back for a very long time, at that. If ever…

He knew Ruby well enough to know that she'd absolutely hate Bear Island. She was a sweet girl, yet she'd be absolutely miserable being away from her family and from the place she'd grown up.

She was just like Jorah's wife in that regard. Lynesse Hightower had hated the isolation of Bear Island. No tourneys, no fools to entertain her, not even a proper tavern to visit occasionally and trade stories in.

What was the point of all his affairs and trysts with pretty girls and noblewomen? Years ago, he hadn't a care in the world… But now? Where there once was that insatiable desire for all the women he wanted, there was only a dark void that remained in his chest. It stained his soul like ancient rust on old, useless metal.

It was not that he wanted to give up his womanizing ways. He doubted that he'd be completely faithful to his lady wife if he ever did get married one day… When I get married. He corrected himself. He was Lord of Bear Island, and it was up to him to produce heirs.

Mormont realized he was tired of all the messy and casual affairs that more often than not left him with a bad conscience. He couldn't give them what they wanted, he wasn't that kind of man. And even then, they would never forget him. They couldn't forget the Bear who had swept them off their feet and brought excitement and wonder into their lives… It wasn't fair to those girls.

He had to be honest with her. That's the best he could do for this beautiful girl. "Ruby… I won't be back for a long time. I'm Lord of Bear Island, now. My people and my family need me."

Starag watched as Ruby nodded sadly and lowered her head into the crook of his neck. He said nothing as he felt her silent tears leak onto his neck. Mormont simply raised his hand up to her head and stroked her golden hair.

A few moments later, her head had risen slowly from his neck. Despite her puffy, rosy cheeks, she managed a sad smile. "I love you, Starag." Her voice was full of hard conviction. "I just want you to know that."

I love you, Starag. The words were like a knife landing right in his gut. Twisting and jutting open the wound, prime for rubbing particles of sea salt to sting and burn his flesh.

She hadn't expected him to say the words back to her, as she dove in once again for a hard, firm kiss. Her thin lips pushed against his, warring and demanding that he open his mouth.

When they separated for air, Ruby lay her head just below his chin and looked up at him dreamily. "Will you hold me for a little while, Starag? And then…" She paused again. "And then make love to me?"

Mormont gathered his wits and smiled warmly down at the beautiful young woman in his arms. The guilt and self-loathing had never left the edge of his mind.

"Of course, Ruby."

Mormont had broken his fast with Wendel and Jon. All three were starving from the previous evening's festivities. He then spent the rest of his morning either running or attempting to swim with his right arm, which still jolted him in agony whenever he tried to twist and turn it.

Everything was going to hell, it seemed. He still grip and hold things, but swinging Longclaw would be next to impossible without causing himself to go in shock. He'd have to duel with his left hand.

While he could fight left-handed, he was nowhere near as good as he was with his right hand. It'll have to do. He thought bitterly to himself.

It had been after midday when the contenders fought in the Grand Melee, the final competition of the tourney in King's Landing. There were not as many competitors as there had been for the lists, but Mormont didn't mind it all that much.

There were a few notable warriors he had to watch out for. Thankfully for Mormont, neither Jamie Lannister nor Gregor Clegane had taken part in the melee. And with one glance up to the King's Stand, it seemed that Barristen Selmy was also on duty.

Chief among his top competitors was Gerold Dayne. The white-haired prick had likely sniffed out Mormont's shoulder wound and figured he'd have easy pickings with the Champion's Purse.

And there was no better time than the melee to finally get his chance to duel with Mormont.

Starag didn't know why the Darkstar had been obsessed with crossing swords with him. He barely knew any other Dayne besides Arthur and Ashara.

No, he figured this was some kind of feud between Gerold and Arthur. After all, Arthur Dayne was regarded as perhaps the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms next to Jamie Lannister.

Perhaps Gerold's feud lay in some kind of jealousy. Arthur's shadow is long, after all… Yes, that must be it.

It didn't particularly matter to Mormont. No amount of reasoning would get the Darkstar to back down. He was a born and bred killer, and he had a lifelong feud with Arthur that now extended to Mormont himself and potentially even to Jon as well, if he wasn't careful.

When Mormont had walked into the arena, where the cheering crowd awaited for all the competitors to arrive, he'd ordered Jon to bet all 55,000 or so of their gold dragons on him. The boy had done so without question. He learned to not doubt Mormont.

Right now, Jon was sitting with Garlan and Margaery up in the stands. Garlan gave him a firm nod and a slight smile, while Jon and Margaery waved at him.

Mormont waved back and brought his attention to the forefront of his mind. He needed to be ice-cold for this particular match. He flexed his right hand again and felt that bitter and familiar spike of jagged pain leaped up to his arm.

This match was going to be a rough one.

The long wooden fence had been removed from the middle of the long narrow patch of sand. Benches on the grounds had been moved outside so as to make more space or at least the perception of more space.

Mormont's right hand instinctively landed on the bear's head pommel. Then came the bitter reminder that he'd be forced to fight with his left hand.

He took his place in his own corner of the arena and waited silently for the rest of the competitors to file in. He prayed to the Old Gods to grant him victory. I've come this far. I can't lose. Not now.

Starag mulled over his competitors as they entered the arena. He scanned each and every one of them. Their strides, their weapons, and armor, even the curve of their back.

Thoros of Myr was among his top competitors. The tall, fat Red Priest had a bundle of swords slung over his back as he strutted into the arena. He gave Mormont a brief nod in recognition before he dropped his swords and drew only one of them.

It had been ages since Mormont had last seen the Red Priest. It had been the Siege of Pyke when he, Thoros, and Jorah had climbed over the wall and charged the Ironborn defense.

Mormont was broken out of his thoughts when he saw another figure enter the arena. Wearing the gilded white armor of the Kingsguard was a short and balding man. He seemed out of place wearing that armor, but Mormont recognized those same ugly brown eyes.

So this must've been Boros Blount… Brother of the late Lord Horace, who had so suddenly met his end by Mormont's own hand.

He supposed that it was bound to happen at some point. It didn't matter. He could already tell the portly Kingsguard wouldn't put up much of a fight.

Those ugly dark brown eyes had fallen on Mormont. They narrowed, and the Kingsguard snarled dangerously at him. Knows it was me, no doubt…

Mormont looked at the Kingsguard dismissively and turned his gaze away when he saw his most dangerous competitor.

The Darkstar strode into the arena like a stallion trotting to the sound of a drum. He wore an ornate-looking set of full plate armor, gilded with gold accents. His longsword was not at all pleasing to look at, at least for Mormont. The hilt was shaped in an odd curve, with amethysts adorning the thick steel crossguard.

Those dark purple eyes had quickly found Mormont. For only a moment, they held nothing as they watched the Bear Lord. Then, they slowly filled with a wolfish and predacious gleam.

Mormont watched as the herald stepped up to the small wooden stage in front of the King's Stand. He was a portly man with a kind smile as he glanced at the amassed competitors.

Fifty-seven. Mormont had counted them all. He nearly chuckled to himself. That was a lot of names for the herald to rattle off.

"Welcome lords and ladies of Westeros!" The herald's voice boomed over the cheering crowd. Soon enough, the jeers had died away and were replaced with silence.

The portly man continued. "We come upon the final competition in the tourney celebrating His Grace, Prince Joffrey's name day." He said with a bow to the princeling sitting in the King's Stand. "The brave lords and knights taking to the field are here to compete for glory and valor! The prize going to the winner shall be the Champion's purse of 25,000 golden dragons."

Mormont's greed had quickly overtaken his fear. He then staunchly reminded himself that he stood to make almost 100,000 gold dragons if he won this final match.

The adrenaline had already begun to pump viciously into his veins. The excitement and fear of losing his money were palpable and at the forefront of his mind.

The herald had begun rattling off the names of the present opponents. None of them mattered to Mormont besides the men he'd have the most trouble with. Namely Thoros and the Darkstar.

In the gathered crowd of the smallfolk, Mormont had spotted Ruby standing behind the barrier. Her hands were clutched tight to her chest in fear and anxiety. I thought she'd gone back to the city…

"And lastly, our Jousting Champion… Ser Starag Mormont!"

The crowd erupted into cheers upon hearing his name. Mormont ignored them and kept watching Ruby. Her crystal blue eyes watched him, pleading with him to be safe.

The deep pit of fear in his chest that had grown since before he stepped into the arena, had suddenly closed up. He felt as if he were just attending another feast, that everything was going to be alright as he looked into those loving blue eyes.

A new sense of resolve had gripped him tightly. He inhaled sharply and glanced around the arena, scanning the main threats to his victory. He'd have to deal with Darkstar alone, or just hope that someone else would take him out.

The trumpet had sounded out as the cheers died down. Hummhumhummmm!

The game was on.

Mormont had Longclaw in his left hand one second longer than he preferred. He gripped it correctly and had gone on the offensive. If his competition was too busy trying to stave him off, they wouldn't notice his stiff right arm.

The clashing of swords and battering of wooden shields had sounded out through the arena. It sounded almost like a battlefield of sorts.

Starag quickly darted up to a lordling, not caring to look at the shorter man's coat-of-arms. The lordling seemed surprised at the mountainous man running quickly towards him and began to back away.

Mormont batted away the lordling's sword and slapped the flat of his blade hard on the man's wrist."

"Ah!" The muffled cry could be heard from within the lordling's steel helm. He backed away from Mormont, but Starag simply kicked him out from under his feet and knocked the lordling prone. The final blow was when Mormont brought Longclaw's pommel down on the man's head. He was out cold.

He turned around and snarled at his next opponent. Standing just a few meters away from him was Boros Blount. His white armor glinted in the afternoon sunglow.

"You killed my brother." The fat man said from behind his white steel helmet. "I demand satisfaction, you monstrous swine."

Mormont grinned wickedly, his mind briefly replaying the satisfying moment of when he shoved Longclaw through Horace Blount's chest. "Your brother tried to kill me after I unhorsed him. He was a poor loser."

"I'll not hear any of your filth!" Boros spat. He charged towards Mormont then. Starag stalked towards him as well, holding out his sword in front of him.

It had been child's play. In a single stroke, Mormont snapped Longclaw down on the fat man's white sword, the pressure and impact making Blount lose his grip on the blade.

The white sword dropped to the sand. Far easier than his brother had been. This fat man probably made a poor Kingsguard.

He didn't say anything as he brought his Longclaw's pommel down on the shorter man's helmet.

Boros Blount crumpled to the sand like a wet towel.

Mormont turned his head and surveyed the field in front of him. There were perhaps twenty or so warriors left fighting it out. More than half of his competition had been beaten out.

He saw Darkstar on the other side of the arena. Gerold Dayne was handling three knights quite easily. He weaved around their blows with speed and precision. He was far better than Mormont had suspected.

"Ser Mormont!" A jovial voice had cut through the air around him. Mormont glanced to his left and saw the tall and portly figure of Thoros of Myr, his flaming sword well in hand.

"Thoros," Starag paid no mind to the flaming blade. "I intend to win this tourney, you know."

The Red Priest nodded with a brimming smile. "Of course, I know. The Lord of Light showed me your intentions in the flames. He believes you are very brave for fighting here in light of your injury."

Mormont never really cared much for the Red Priests and their flaming god. He was an old-fashioned kind of man who believed that one such cook with fire rather than stare into it. "Tell him I said thanks." He raised Longclaw upwards. "Now let's get on with it, shall we?"

Thoros had charged towards him first, his flaming sword licked and hissed at the air where Mormont had just been standing.

Starag parried Thoros' sword and kicked the Red Priest in the side. Thoros nearly fell over but managed to keep his balance at the last moment.

He pressed forward and brought Longclaw down onto Thoros' sword. Clang! The two blades clashed.

Mormont forced himself away from the flaming sword. It was far too hot to be getting up close to the Red Priest. He instead kicked at Thoros' leg this time, feeling the joints and thick flesh give way underneath his boot.

"Agh!" The Red Priest had cried. He tried to stand up again, but Mormont was already on him. With a strong swing from his sword, he cleaved Thoros' blade in half, the blade having already been corroded from the fire.

Starag then hammered his closed fist into Thoros' large, protruding gut, knocking the wind out of the Red Priest.

As Thoros sank onto his knees, the Red Priest had grinned at Mormont with blood-stained teeth and laughed boisterously. "Yield!" He said.

Mormont nodded and smiled at the Red Priest. He helped the older man get back onto his feet. It was the least he could do for an old comrade in arms.

Then he heard it-No, he felt it in his bones. Something was wrong…

The clashing of swords and rattling of shields had stopped completely. Not a single sound was being made in the arena.

Mormont turned around and immediately had seen why. There was nobody left on the field.

Except for him and Gerold Dayne.

The Darkstar stood directly across from him on the opposite side of the arena, right in front of the King's Stand. There was a sort of victorious grin on his pale mask as if he'd already won the melee.

Mormont stepped forward slowly. He readjusted his left-handed grip on Longclaw. All that could be heard were the slight murmuring of the smallfolk and Mormont's heavy footsteps in the yellow sand.

"Seems as if we were destined for one another, hmm?" Darkstar's voice was like the hissing of a snake. "I noticed you'd kept your sword arm rather stiff… What was it? Sword? Woman?"

"Lance," Mormont answered bluntly. It was by chance one of the luckiest blows in the history of jousting that had left Mormont's right arm rather useless in regards to sword fighting.

Darkstar clicked his tongue in sharp distaste. He frowned. "Unfortunate. Very unfortunate. For you, at least." He added on hastily. His tone of voice seemed to carry the slightest hint of humor.

"Let's get this over with." Mormont lifted up Longclaw with his steady left hand. "I want a good drink, and you've put me in a foul mood."

Gerold Dayne simply gave a heavy sigh. "Everything has to be about fighting and drinking with you barbarians, doesn't it…" The predatory glint had entered those dark purple eyes. "Very well."

Were Mormont not an expertly trained swordsman, he would not have dodged the sharp lunge that Darkstar made straight towards his belly. A blow meant to mortally wound him. Dayne had thoroughly set the pace for the duel.

Mormont tried to redirect the strike away from him, but Dayne was overwhelmingly fast and had whirled his sword just in time to parry the strike.

The tip of Gerold's sword licked his grey-white metal vambrace in an attempt to knock his sword out of his hands. Mormont deftly stepped backward and brought Longclaw down like a hammer towards the Darkstar. Their swords met in a violent crash.

Clang! Mormont easily pushed Darkstar back, yet stopped himself from getting too greedy as he gained ground over the Dayne. Their roles could just as easily reverse in an instant.

Their swords continued to make their razor-sharp dance in the arena. The spectators around them watched in awe of the two expert swordsmen. Both men traded blows back and forth.

To Mormont, he knew that if his right arm was in working condition, he would've already disarmed this fool Darkstar. He begrudgingly admitted that Gerold Dayne was good with the sword… but he wasn't Arthur.

Mormont had taken a lance to his right shoulder, which just so happened to be his sword arm. His opponents were getting all the luck these days, it seemed. First Clegane with his lance, and now Darkstar only having to deal with Mormont's less experienced left hand.

He made an overhead strike towards Darkstar's neck. The Dornishman's blade came upwards and directed Mormont's sword away. The Dayne had then followed up with another lunging strike, this time it was aimed for Mormont's neck.

Starag knew that if he could keep his wits about him, he'd be able to get through Darkstar's armor with Longclaw. Valyrian Steel had no equal. He just needed an opening…

There! Darkstar had feinted to Mormont's right side, exposing himself in the process. He thanked his many years of footwork training with Arthur for the deft sidestep he made.

He was in! Darkstar widened his eyes in surprise and turned around, and brought his sword underneath Mormont's. Shit!

That's when Starag realized he'd been played. Darkstar's blade clicked hard against his left wrist. Longclaw was released from his grasp and flew upwards in the air. Dayne caught the Valyrian Steel blade in his left hand and held it out in front of him.

Mormont cursed himself for getting careless. He allowed Darkstar to fool him with that feint and disarm him.

He clenched his fists tight and felt his knuckles squeeze and turn white as he saw Darkstar briefly test the weight of Longclaw in his palm. "I expected better, Mormont… not nearly as good as Arthur says you are." He had said out loud for all to hear.

He ignored the immensely curious glances being sent his way as Darkstar began to gloat and brag of his victory before he'd taken it. The deep pit had reopened in his stomach as he knew the worst possible scenario had just happened. He just lost 55,000 gold dragons to this Dornish fool.

Why hadn't he just taken it back to Bear Island? He would've been left with 10,000 gold dragons to spend on whatever he wanted. Damn it, Mormont!

No… he couldn't yield now… The melee wasn't over until he yielded, was knocked out, or… Or killed.

Mormont's resolve had hardened into ice-cold steel. He got himself into this mess, now it was his responsibility to get himself out of it. There had to be something he could do!

"And to think you were trained by my cousin Arthur, the Sword of the Morning himself… a pity he wasted his talents on a barbaric northerner such as yourself, hmm?"

You only won because Clegane shoved a lance into my sword arm. He had wanted to spit the burning words right back into Darkstar's cruel and handsome face. Mormont kept his face as a cool mask. He had to play for time to come up with something, anything.

He knew even the slightest mistake may result in his death. His calculations had to be on point.

Darkstar continued. He came closer and quieted his hissing and scathing voice, so only Mormont would hear. "I was quite enraged last night, I'll admit. You had skillfully avoided my attempt to make you out as a bumbling fool. But then I saw your woman…"

Mormont's thoughts immediately shattered. His heartbeat quickened as he realized what Darkstar was getting onto. He snarled viciously at the Dornishman. The bastard!

"Oh relax, my dear Bear… I haven't touched your Maiden Fair. Not yet, at least." He chuckled softly. Longclaw's tip rested firmly against Mormont's breastplate. That would cut through the armor like butter. "But I think I shall have a taste of her honeyed hair myself after today… Oh, accidents do happen, of course. But I'm simply not as accident-prone as you might think."

He cooled the hot blood in his veins that demanded the Darkstar be killed right where he stood. He would rather die himself than let this fucking degenerate lay a single finger on Ruby.

"So, I must ask, Ser Mormont." Darkstar stepped backward, his gloating now finished as he looked at Mormont expectantly. "Do you yield?"

A flash of wild inspiration had struck Mormont as he felt Longclaw's razor-sharp edge scrape against his armor. It was risky, alright. There was the definite risk that Dayne could stab him with his longsword. But in his heart of hearts… Mormont knew he wouldn't forgive himself if he yielded.

"No," Mormont said sternly. Gasps and loud mutters could be heard in the vast crowd of spectators. "You'll just have to kill me."

Longclaw's sharp edge left his chest. Mormont hid his growing excitement and narrowed his eyes as he watched Darkstar sheath his own sword and hold Longclaw in both of his hands. The bastard plans to gut me with my own sword…

"Well then… Goodbye, Ser Mormont." Darkstar's thin cruel smile was wicked. He aimed the point of Longclaw right for Mormont's chest and lunged. This was going to hurt his arm. A lot.

It was the many hard years of rigorous footwork training with Arthur that saved him. Right before Longclaw was going to pierce his flesh, he swiftly stepped to the side and flung his left elbow right into the Darkstar's face.

Crunch! The sickening cracking of bone and flesh could be heard by everyone present in the arena. Dayne howled out in pain and dropped Longclaw into the sand.

The force of the blow sent Darkstar onto his back. His nose twisted and broken with chunks of fresh red blood rolling down his face. He writhed violently in the sand as he tried to draw his sword and clutch at his nose.

"I won't kill you, Darkstar…" Mormont said for all to hear. He sheathed Longclaw and kicked away Dayne's half-drawn sword. It skittered in the sand.

He wouldn't kill Gerold Dayne. He was a relative of his friends, no matter how distant. But Mormont would give the man something to remember him by. He would just have to let a few details slip to so he wouldn't be disqualified. "If I remember correctly just now… You threatened to rape and kill my woman after I'd been dealt with…"

More shocked and horrified gasps had filled the arena stands. Mormont ignored them and continued. "You can insult me, you can make jokes at my expense. I don't care. But I will not forgive an offense on any woman of mine." He kicked Darkstar hard in the ribs, flipping the man over on his back.

"Y-yield." Darkstar's hissing voice was only full of screaming fear and worry for what Mormont might do. "P-Please… Ser…" He wheezed as the air had been knocked out of him.

"I was wondering when you'd shut up." Mormont knew that he was the only one who had heard that tiny pathetic voice. He was a man of honor, but his honor only went so high. And when his women were threatened, that was where he drew the line. "I just want you to know, Gerold, that I don't usually do this…"

Ignoring the searing pain in his right arm, Mormont hoisted Darkstar up by the back straps of his full plate armor and his crotch and into the air above him. Dayne's arms flailed wildly at nothing.

Mormont lifted his right knee and swiftly pulled Darkstar downwards. Down, and down, and down until Dayne's back had met his knee.

CRUNCH! Darkstar's scream of unbearable agony had sounded out through the arena. To spare everyone's ears, Mormont covered his mouth with his gauntleted hand. When the muffled howling had stopped, he withdrew his hand.

Those dark purple eyes burned with agonizing hatred and pain for only a few moments. And then, Gerold Dayne had completely passed out.

Mormont stood up robotically. His arm was burning from the lance wound he'd gotten the day prior, but he didn't care. His rage burned hot within him as he stared at the prone body of Gerold Dayne.

"He says he yields," Mormont said aloud. Though anyone close would've seen that Darkstar looked half-dead, only just barely breathing. Mormont knew that he would never walk again.

No cheers were heard as the herald had stepped up to the wooden podium. He awkwardly cleared his throat. "And the Champion of the Grand Melee is… Ser Starag Mormont!"

Mormont had already turned to leave Gerold Dayne behind. He said nothing as he marched out of the arena, feeling more than a hundred pairs of eyes on him as he went.

With his jovial attitude, most often forgot that Mormont was almost as strong as Gregor Clegane himself. These people had seen him at his worst, and he doubted they'd ever want to hear the terrified and inhuman scream that had come from Darkstar.

He made his way to his tent and took a seat. He sat there and looked at the green canvas wall for what seemed like hours.

Jon had come by and told him that they'd won the Champion's Purse of 25,000 gold dragons, along with an extra 12,000 or so from the bets placed by the nobles. In addition to their other 66,000, Mormont knew he had a whole fortune at his fingertips.

Just over 103,000 gold dragons were now in his possession. He could go home to Bear Island right now…

Something in the back of his mind told him that he should keep going. He didn't know if it was because he was trying to avoid thinking about what he'd done to Darkstar, but he listened to it.

Mormont simply drew his pipe and sat in his tent. He just wanted to… think for a while.

If there was a feast, Mormont hadn't been invited. He doubted anyone had much of an appetite after seeing him break Gerold Dayne's back in one simple stroke.

The sun was lowering in the distant outside sky when Ruby had come into his tent. She seemed pale and worried that he might make any sudden movements. Mormont just continued staring at the pale green canvas.

"Starag?" She asked finally as she sat down across from him. "A-Are you alright?"

Mormont blew out a large puff of smoke and sighed. "No." He answered simply. He didn't take his eyes off the canvas. There was something about it…

"Look at me, Starag." Ruby's voice had suddenly hardened. It was firm and authoritative, almost.

Slowly, Starag broke his gaze on the green canvas wall of his tent and looked at the pretty young woman. There was a shakiness in her eyes. And longing, too. He didn't know why. He was a monster.

"I love you, Starag." She said.

He believed her. He really did. Yet, he couldn't help but noticed the slight wariness in her crystal blue eyes. Now, they would always wonder if he was going to snap her like a twig as well…

Still, her hand reached across the table and squeezed his own. He lightly squeezed back. "Thank you, Ruby…" He said. Slowly, he stood from his chair and sat down on his bed. Ruby followed him.

"How strange it is… that I'm the one in need of some comfort." Mormont had mused to himself. He glanced at the blonde girl hanging on his arm. "Our roles were reversed just this morning."

Ruby managed a small giggle. Her hands pawed at his armor. "Let's get this off you, alright?" She smiled warmly at him. "How's your arm?"

Mormont shrugged. "It's better."

"Good."

They removed his armor piece-by-piece. Once they were finished, Mormont had wrapped his arms around the young woman and lifted her up gently in his arms. A part of him wondered why she had come back, even after seeing him break another man in half.

Then he reminded himself of the healing powers that women seemed to be born with. He forgot all about the day's troubles as they made love in the heat of the tent. No one had disturbed them for the rest of the night.

Just before he fell asleep with Ruby snoring peacefully in his arms, he swore he could hear the gut-wrenching and animalistic howl of Gerold Dayne. And then how it had seamlessly joined the rest of the screams of pain and terror in his mind.

Funny… They always did get louder whenever he went to sleep.