The Water Gardens
294 AC
The languorous and supple tanned thigh had slid over Mormont's lap, its owner having wrapped her two long legs around his waist and locking them with her ankles.
However, the busty and vivacious woman sitting on his knees had only teased him with a chaste and delicate kiss on the cheek. Her slim diamond-shaped face had only grinned at him with teasing delight as her curly pale blonde hair had curtained her shining and delicious neckline.
"That's a cheat," Mormont said sharply. "We agreed that if I had won the previous hand of cards, that you would kiss me full on the lips." He added.
The woman on his lap, Lady Melissa Fowler, had simply giggled at his stern and seemingly playful tone of voice and said nothing in response. Her body lanced forward and she planted her lips firmly onto his own.
They lingered there for some time, she was pushing against his lips in defiance, until she realized he would not crumble so easily to a Dornishwoman, and then her soft and pink lips had given way and opened.
She separated for air, but Mormont had felt the slight gyrations of her core against his stomach. The shoulder straps of her thin linen dress were halfway down her arms, revealing the two large and perky orbs on her chest.
"You know, Starag…" Oberyn Martell's voice had made itself known from behind the woman on Mormont's lap. "Were Lady Fowler's lord father here, I would be honor-bound to give him my knife. So that he might cut open your throat for defiling his daughter."
Mormont was completely unfazed by the Red Viper's playful remark. He glanced behind the woman and saw Oberyn sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. In both of his arms were Ellaria Sand, and another woman who Mormont did not remember the name of. Nailia? Cecelia? Whatever. Regardless, they both looked about ready to tear the Red Viper's clothes off.
Starag looked at the slim dagger on Oberyn's belt. "That knife, Oberyn. I doubt it's good for anything besides opening letters… It looks more fitting for a woman." He said.
"You know much about blades, Starag?" Oberyn's thin black eyebrows had raised in delight at the sparking game of words.
Mormont grinned wickedly and shook his head. "No. I know a little about women, though." He said before he gripped the sturdy and firm breasts of Melissa Fowler in his massive paws.
The Red Viper had simply let out a hearty laugh and proceeded to steal greedy kisses from his own two lovers. Their dainty fingers creeping under the breast of his yellow-golden tunic.
It had only been a week or so since Starag Mormont and his company had arrived at the Water Gardens. Despite his rather tenuous welcome from Prince Oberyn Martell, the two men had seemingly gotten along rather well in the short time they'd known each other. They shared a similar love for cards, especially.
And both had the same passion for women, it seemed.
Dornish culture had seemed to be accepting of his barbarian and cavalier ways, which only made Mormont wonder why he had not explored Dorne before his impending lordship.
He put that out of his mind as he indulged himself with the young woman on his lap. Despite his surprise at how most Dornishwomen were in fact not nearly as promiscuous as the rumors say, he didn't doubt for a moment that these girls had lots of practice with their ladies-in-waiting.
It seemed rather obvious now that he thought about it, that the Dornish were also staunchly aware of how valuable a virgin woman was to her future lord husband, and that it was only Oberyn Martell himself who was the base of all these scandalous rumors in the first place.
Even then, Mormont had thoroughly enjoyed seducing the young woman sitting on his knees. These women were simply more honest than their northern counterparts. They openly desired the dangerous men who were also most capable of seeing to their needs.
And Starag Mormont and Oberyn Martell were the perfect examples of these dangerous men.
"Tell me more about Bear Island, my lord." Melissa's sky blue eyes had gleamed at him with desire. She sensually wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his own thin tunic. He felt her nipples press hard into his skin.
"You wouldn't like it," Mormont replied belligerently before he parted her shining blonde hair and dove slowly onto her perfect golden neck. As he gently squeezed the skin on her soft neck with his teeth, he heard Lady Fowler moan loudly in uninhibited pleasure. She rocked gently against him as he breathed in the sweet scent of her womanly smell. It simply made him harder.
What was it with him and blondes? His last two women had similar fair hair to the one on his lap. Then again, there were nights where he could not really tell any of them apart. He stopped counting how many women he'd had many many years ago.
Melissa Fowler's arms had pulled him closer. She seemed to have an iron grip around his neck, which meant that stopping his advance would only bring about a bitter disappointment at her lack of a climax. In a way, she was telling him to keep going.
Mormont would not disappoint her. He let his hands roam the woman's golden-skinned body and felt her fast pulse and the rise and fall of her chest. He may not even have to use his cock to get her off.
He slid a single finger down her taut stomach and down underneath her underwear. Her thighs tightened around him in response.
Just a single finger was all it had taken for Melissa Fowler to come undone in his arms as he played with her soaking wet core, his fingers had excitedly stimulated the vertical pink lips down below. Melissa had gasped and shook and would have screamed in his arms had he not covered the girl's lips.
Her thin small clothes had not been enough to stop the woman's juices from flowing out of her shaking core and onto his trousers. Melissa panted underneath his hand, which he removed so she would not pass out. Those sky blue eyes now beamed lovingly at him as if he were the only thing missing in her life.
Once again, the hole in his chest had seemed to gape wide open as he recognized that look. It was pure and unadulterated love. Plain and simple.
It was incredibly tempting to take her maidenhead, yet Mormont could feel the familiar inklings of that all too familiar guilt seeping into his conscience, and the mental burden it would cost him in the morning. He wasn't even trying and he still managed to make these women fall in love with him.
Mormont gently lifted her off his lap and lay her head against his chest. He didn't even particularly enjoy her company. She was quite boring at dinner. Far too chatty for his tastes.
There were multiple women he'd met during his travels whose company Mormont had absolutely loathed. Those were the women he typically never saw again. When a girl tried to overtly impress him with a display of smarts, cunning, or even impolite willfulness, he tended to draw the line.
His favorite girls were the ones who, quite honestly, would know when to shut up. One of the best excursions Mormont had ever had was with a young woman named Melara. For a Riverlord's daughter, she had been acutely aware of when he wanted to speak with her, and when he did not. As a result, he had given her one of his children. She had no objections.
His appetite for this girl was thoroughly crushed. Mormont did not enjoy her company this evening, no matter how much alcohol he had consumed. He would, however, have to give her the time of her life. No sense in going out half-cocked.
Mormont would not share her with the Red Viper, however. He was not nearly as liberal with his women as the Dornish were with theirs.
Slowly, he scooped the yellow-haired woman into his arms and stood upright on both feet. Melissa's arms wrapped sensually around his neck.
"Have an excellent evening, Oberyn," Mormont gave the Red Viper a grateful nod. The Prince was by far one of the best hosts he'd ever had. "I pray you get some good sleep tonight."
Oberyn Martell grinned wickedly at him. "I very much doubt that will happen, Starag." He said. Both women in his arms had giggled in husky delight. "It is a shame you won't be joining us, but we will make do."
And with that, Mormont had found himself out walking through the pink marble and sandstone halls of the palace, with a slightly drunk Melissa Fowler in his arms. She weighed barely more than his sword, it seemed.
Yet Mormont himself had more than enough to drink that night and found himself wandering down the winding long corridors and halls. Where was my room again? He asked himself.
Mormont stumbled forward and glanced up and down the wide hallways lined with doors and verandas on either side. He ignored the golden-skinned woman who was kissing his neck rather fervently.
It was then that he saw a shadow pass by underneath the torchlight just at the end of the hall. He couldn't make out what it looked like exactly, but Mormont was fairly certain that it was a woman given the taut, and shapely round edges of the shadow's body.
In his drunken haze, his curiosity had risen tenfold. Who besides him would be up so late at this gods-forsaken hour? Well, besides himself and Oberyn, at the least.
Not even the Red Viper's daughters would be up at this time. So who was it? Couldn't be Jon or Margaery. They'd gone to bed right after dinner. And Garlan was a hardened soldier. He rarely drank unless he had to.
Starag found himself stepping forward, walking after the passing shadow with a curious gaze in his deep blue eyes. He absolutely had to know who it was.
He turned the corner and recognized the entrance to the library just to his left. The large yew door was jutting open slightly, the smell of freshly baked bread and Dornish spices had wafted from behind it.
"Do you sleep in the library, Starag?" Melissa Fowler had asked, removing her mouth from his bare shoulder. Then a crooked and sultry smile had suddenly adorned her pretty lips. "Or do you plan to take me in the library?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? A Northern Barbarian taking a Dornish Lady from behind." Mormont smirked.
She said nothing, yet her arms tightened around his neck in response. He would have to find his room. Fast. But first, he had to put this little hunt of his to an end. "Just a few more minutes, darling."
Mormont walked forward and gently pushed open the yew door with his foot. It slid smoothly on the bronze hinges and gave way, revealing a brief picture of the rather impressive library at the Water Gardens.
It was much larger than Winterfell's. Though it lacked the practical simplicity of a few rows of bookshelves. Then again, Mormont briefly considered that he was biased.
The library here was a sprawling labyrinth of tall bookshelves made of yew, and with two floors as opposed to Winterfell's one. As Mormont walked inside, being mindful of Melissa's head, he had seen a spiral staircase leading to the second floor.
Tapestries of Princes and Princesses of Dorne had hung on the high and wide walls of sandy-colored stone. Mormont, as he looked at them drunkenly, could only see the same coloring of luscious black hair and tanned skin. Aside from their facial structure, they did not look much different from one another.
To his immediate right was a great hearth, though why it was there at all was beyond Mormont. It was bloody hot in Dorne. The last thing anybody would want to add was a little more heat.
The hearth was roaring alive with a healthy and beautiful fire. The starburst of orange, red, and gold simply put him in awe.
Next to the fire was an armchair and a lone table. There were piles upon piles of books which were mostly put in stacks while others had collapsed unceremoniously onto the light wooden floor.
And sitting in the chair was Mormont's prey. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to get a better look at her.
She was a short young woman, probably around Mormont's torso heightwise. And even though she was sitting, he could see the rather breathtaking scene of her perfect hourglass body. Though her skin was slightly paler than most Dornishwomen, it still had the same tan that came with standing in the sun too long.
However, the thing that had caught Mormont's eye the most was the oddly placed strip of silver-platinum hair in a large head of brown-auburn curls, which extended down past her shoulders. Her face was obscured, but he could make out the hints of a sharp jawline and high cheekbones in the girl.
On top of the narrow wooden table were more stacks of books surrounding a fresh plate of steamed shrimp with garlic bread and butter. The thick tomes were like castle walls wrapping around a keep, accessible only to the girl.
She didn't seem to take notice of either him or Melissa. In fact, she seemed to be quite enraptured in a large tome at the moment.
There was something nagging at him in the back of his mind. Some kind of recognition, but it didn't come to him. What was it with that strange hair? He had only seen Targaryens with the silver hair. But why the lone strip? Was that some kind of odd fashion in Dorne?
As he continued racking his drunken mind for an answer, the girl's head had turned to face him and Melissa. Mormont saw the visible horror and shock on her charming face. What was the matter?
"G-Get out! Now! Or I'll call the guards!" She shouted at him. Her voice had picked up confidence when he stepped backward in surprise. Her eyes were wide with fear. It was almost as if the bookish girl did not notice Melissa Fowler in his arms.
Surprised, and not wanting to ruin the rest of his evening, Mormont simply turned away and made his way out the door.
"Who was that?" Melissa asked, craning her neck to glance back at the large yew door. It had slammed shut behind them with a great BAM!
"I don't know," Mormont answered soberly. He just continued walking down the hall and quickly found his way to his room. He didn't say another word as he lay Melissa Fowler on his bed and tore off her dress.
They had made love with cold passion in the cool heat of the early morning, and it wasn't until the break of dawn that both of them were spent. Melissa collapsed into Mormont's thickly muscled arms, their sweat and slick bodies rubbing up against one another as they completely forgot about the scared and fearful girl who had screamed at him.
It was just before he was about to fall asleep that one detail had sprung to mind. Though, it only fed his insatiable curiosity that much more…
When the strange girl had stood up, he swore that he saw something in her eyes. What color were they? He didn't know, except that they were dark. But there was a strange sort of flash inside of them…
Mormont connected the dots as he remembered those finite details of the brief encounter. And what he found had only confused him rather thoroughly.
The flashing violet glint in her dark eyes had been the exact same as Jon's.
"Uncle, could you pass the honey?"
Mormont had been immediately broken out of his morning thoughts and looked to Jon. The boy was looking patiently at the jar of honey sitting in front of Mormont.
Wordlessly, he passed the jar over to his nephew, who immediately took a greedy scoop for his cup of coffee.
"Did you sleep well, Starag?" Oberyn had asked from across the table. The knowing grin on the Red Viper's face had told everyone sitting at the table just exactly what he meant. "I heard a lot of noises coming from your side of the wing."
Mormont had, in fact, slept quite poorly. He and Melissa Fowler had been rutting and fucking for hours. The young woman was rather insatiable once she had gotten comfortable having a man inside of her. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep as a result. He had no regrets.
Except of course, for the splitting headache, he pretended not to have.
"Not as well as you, Oberyn." Mormont had replied before he took in another drought of his first cup of coffee for the morning. The bitter tang had been thoroughly swept away by the sweet taste of the honey.
He set the cup back down and gulped the sweet warm liquid. "Though Lady Fowler and I had a quick peek into the library. And then I… er…" he gave Jon and Margaery a quick glance. "Escorted her back to her room for the night." He said with a wink to Oberyn.
The Red Viper seemed entertained by the gesture, though there was a curious glint in his black eyes. "The library, you say…" He began. His elbows had posted firmly on the breakfast table as he leaned forward. "And did you see anyone there?"
Mormont pretended not to notice the predatory and even dangerous look of those narrowed black eyes. He gave a careless wave of his hand. "I did. Some girl. She screamed at me for some reason, not sure why. Thought her shrieking would've scared Lady Fowler half to death."
He'd noticed that Doran Martell had also stopped eating his meal at the head of the table and was watching their exchange with interested golden-yellow eyes. Mormont continued.
"You wouldn't happen to know who I'm talking about, would you?" He had asked with polite innocence. Somehow, he knew he was on to something here. There was something about that girl… But what was it? Who was she?
Oberyn Martell was quick on the draw. "Ah, that is my daughter, Rhae Sand." His fixed smile was warm, but his black eyes were cold. "I hope she did not trouble you? She is a… night person."
Yes… Mormont had recalled how many daughters Oberyn had. There were nine of these so-called Sand Snakes. Though Oberyn had only referred to Rhae Sand by name and had not talked of her any further. Something which hadn't been important at the time, yet now only served to greatly interest Mormont.
And what else was he to do with his time in the Water Gardens? Doran Martell still had not managed to come to a decision, and all Mormont could think to do was to spar with Jon and Garlan, play cards, fuck Dornish noblewomen, and drink.
He had not realized that Oberyn had continued speaking. "-Her mother had been killed by a knight, unfortunately. She was a good woman. Very kind." He spoke softly of the mother of his child. "A friend of mine in King's Landing helped me bring her here. Alas, she does not enjoy the company of men since she witnessed her mother being-"
"I think that is enough, Oberyn." Doran Martell had interjected with an apologetic glance at Jon and Margaery, who both had seemed enraptured by Oberyn's storytelling. Mormont was thankful for that, though part of him had been curious to hear the end of the young woman's tale.
Oberyn nodded and raised a hand in surrender to his brother. Then he looked to Mormont. "What I mean is, is that she prefers women." He said plainly.
Mormont knew that the violent reaction he had gotten last night was far more than a simple preference for women. The instinctive look of fear in her dark eyes had only reminded him of how the lights would leave the eyes of men once he'd killed them.
He was more than well versed with the opposite sex, especially when it came to women claiming that they only preferred other women. More often than not, they would crumble and… gladly sink into the arms of a strong man, the right man, that is.
In most matters, Starag would've simply left the young woman alone. Yet it was that familiar flash of amethyst in her dark eyes that convinced him that there was more to Rhae Sand than meets the eye.
And he was dying to find out why.
"Again!"
Once more, Jon and Garlan began their clash of blades for the tenth time that afternoon. Mormont paced around the dueling pair, watching them with inquisitive and unrelenting deep blue eyes.
When compared to any standard castle garrison, these two would've been masters of the sword. To Mormont, they were both making far too many mistakes.
Jon had strained to cleave upwards towards Garlan's neck. "Sloppy." He said stolidly. Garlan had quickly glanced the blow aside with his steel sword.
Even then, Garlan was slow on the uptake. His sluggish lunge forward had given Jon plenty of time to move out of the way and make another overhead strike. "Slow," Mormont called again.
Both of them, of course, were heaving air in and out through their lungs, beads of sweat ran down their faces. Jon looked about ready to collapse.
Mormont had been rather impressed with his nephew's vigor and energy. The boy had managed to withstand ten rounds against Garlan at the age of eleven, and with only a few minutes rest in between. And while he had superior technique as per his training by Arthur, it was Garlan whose muscles were more developed.
Sure enough, Jon's legs had wobbled slightly as he made a counter jab towards Garlan's side. It was enough to send him off balance and onto the pink marble floor of the courtyard.
Wolf Queen clattered on the ground next to him as the boy strained to get back up on his knees. "Oww…" He grumbled to himself as he rubbed his knees.
"I think we'll call it a day." Mormont smiled brightly at his two students. "You can-"
"No." Jon shook his tight black mane in frustration. He got back up onto his feet and picked up his sword. "I want to finish this."
Mormont pursed his lips in acknowledgment and nodded. "Good." He grinned. Would this boy ever stop making him proud?
"Bloody hell, Jon." Garlan rang his sword arm in a circle. "What's Starag been teaching you? Not even the men-at-arms in Highgarden do that well."
Jon gave him a tired smile in response as he held up his bastard sword. "How to properly swing a sword." His reply was quick and hard like a wolf's bite.
Garlan Tyrell had only smiled at the challenge. "We'll see about that, Jon!" he barked. "How many gold dragons do you want to bet on this last round?"
"Ten." Jon had said confidently.
Mormont nodded in approval at the apparent gambling. He watched as the two clicked their swords together in agreement. Tang! Then, they had resumed their duel.
He was too busy watching the clashing of swords play out before him that he had not been aware of another making their presence known at his side. Their light footsteps had been sufficiently covered by the windy sea salt breeze.
"Er… Lord Mormont?" A tentative voice had asked from his side.
Starag slowly glanced to his right, and then a bit down and slightly widened his eyes in surprise...
Rhae Sand stood next to him, her pale hands folded in front of her. She wore a dark burgundy dress which did indeed hug her hourglass figure, but it was not nearly as thin as the usual Dornish dresses. It looked much more like a Crownlands fashion.
Her brown-auburn hair had a faint red glow to it that… charmed Mormont. It was strange to see a Dornish girl with slightly red hair. It was as if she had soaked up the sun like a sponge would hold water. The platinum strip of hair was gold in the sun's ferocious gaze.
And her eyes? They were violet. The only violet eyes that Mormont had ever seen in a girl before.
Judging by the uncomfortable and… somewhat scared look on her hauntingly beautiful face, he could tell she likely had not wanted to come up to him.
By the Old Gods… Had they really made a creature as enchanting as this young woman? What was she doing being wasted away in a library? She couldn't have been older than eighteen.
Mormont soon regained his sturdy grip on his baser instincts. Reining himself in, he managed a warm smile and ignored just how tight his pants suddenly felt. "Yes?"
"I… uh…" She caught herself. Rhae Sand was looking up into his deep blue eyes. She'd let out a deep sigh. "I wanted to apologize for my… behavior earlier this morning. I did not realize that you were my uncle's guest. I should've known better."
The blushing twinge of embarrassment had marked her high cheekbones with patches of red. "Especially with Lady Fowler present…" She said with a half-smile. There was no warmth behind it, though.
Had Oberyn spoken with her? Perhaps, but it was still kind of her to leave her den of comfort and books just to apologize. He supposed he wasn't an easy man to approach, what with him being mountainously tall, of course. His densely muscled arms certainly couldn't have helped, either.
"Thank you," He said simply as he searched her violet eyes. It was a sincere apology, but it was marred with her obvious discomfort.
There was a brief pause between the two of them, though neither of them had broken eye contact. It seemed as if the moment would never stop, and that Mormont would forever look into the careful and piercing violet eyes.
Finally, the girl was the first one to break her gaze away. "I hope I did not bother you, Lord Mormont. I'll be-"
"Wait," Mormont said.
Rhae Sand had already half-turned away from him when she suddenly stopped. Her head turned back to look up at his eyes once more in questioning trepidation.
Starag paused. He needed an excuse to keep talking to her. There was something about this girl-other than his obvious attraction to her- that made him want to solve whatever mystery he'd accidentally stumbled upon the night before.
She had none of Oberyn's coloring, and she certainly did not have his eyes. The Red Viper's eyes were harsh and cruel, while Rhae Sand's were kind and sorrowful.
He knew that this girl had the blood of Old Valyria in her. Her high cheekbones and sharp jaw had only pointed that out to him. And the platinum-silver strip of hair was natural.
Mormont found it! The perfect way to keep this bookish and beautiful girl from hiding away in her library. "I come from the North, as I'm sure you're keenly aware. We settle disputes in a far different way than a simple apology."
Rhae Sand pursed her lips and sighed. "I don't drink, Lord Mormont." She answered simply as if she'd known the answer the whole time, which she probably did. The countless stacks and piles of books came to mind. It seemed that she was trying her best not to be curt with him.
"And we don't have to." Mormont grinned playfully at the young woman. His enthusiasm was not shared. Still, he persisted. "Have you ever played Whist before?"
The girl seemed rather caught off guard by his question. "My father taught it to me when I was young." She said tentatively. "But… I haven't had a chance to play for some time."
"Excellent." Mormont clapped his hands together. "Then how about a game or two later this afternoon? Just before dinner. We can play over by one of the pools and settle our little dispute once and for all."
Rhae Sand looked like a deer caught in a trap. Despite being a hideaway in her library, she was sternly aware of the manners that a host should have towards their guests. She let out a nervous sigh and nodded firmly in defeated acceptance.
"Thank you, my lady." He smiled warmly at her. "Your uncle would be proud, I'm sure." He glanced back at Jon and Garlan. His nephew had been disarmed by the Tyrell, and his dark grey eyes were fuming.
He then returned his deep blue eyes to Rhae Sand. "I've got to see to my squire before he murders my friend. Excuse me."
Mormont turned around and settled the dispute. Jon did not have ten gold dragons to spare, so Starag had decided to pay off his debt to Garlan. The three of them decided to call it for the day and go get washed up.
When Mormont turned back around, he saw no sign of the girl. She had completely vanished.
Starag Mormont sat comfortably in his wooden chair with a leg crossed over his knee. In front of him was a plain, yet regal-looking yew table, just large enough for two to sit it.
The minutes had gone by frightfully slow. To entertain himself, Mormont had begun shuffling the cards again and again. He cut the deck in half, split it open, and then sliced it all together again.
He wondered if the girl would actually show up. She hadn't seemed terribly enthusiastic at the prospect of playing cards, much less being around a man such as himself, a notorious womanizer, which she had witnessed first hand.
Still, Mormont was certain that she'd show herself at some point. If she had the manners to approach him and apologize for screaming at him, then she would take up her chance to be rid of him by playing a few rounds of cards.
As he sat in the small courtyard in the open, with the shimmer crystal pools of water surrounding him on all sides, he couldn't help but wonder about this mysterious girl.
How old was she? Her full breasts and hourglass figure told him that she was more than a woman grown. She must've been six, or seven years older than Jon and Margaery...
The violet eyes? Were those not the most obvious sign of something amiss? The Targaryens were notorious for their silver hair and purple eyes. Sure, the Daynes had purple eyes too, but they were a far different shade than Rhae Sand's.
And Jon's for that matter.
Why had her eyes reminded him of Jon's? Besides that quick amethyst flash, both held nothing in common. Jon had received Lyanna's coloring, the dark hair, and Stark grey eyes. But Rhae Sand? Was her mother of Old Valyrian descent?
He was broken out of his thoughts by the very same girl who had mystified him just last night. She approached with a stern stride towards the center platform on which Mormont sat. Her eyes were cold and distant as she quickly took her seat across from him.
"Good evening." Mormont greeted her warmly. He noticed she wore the same thick burgundy dress, but had braided her hair into a typical Crownlands style. The strands of loose brown-auburn curls in front of her face were braided in a sort of crown to the back of her head.
Rhae Sand had nodded curtly in kind. "Good evening, Lord Mormont." Despite her hard and stern face, her voice was soft and delicate. "Shall we play?" She asked in earnest.
Mormont nodded and shuffled the cards once more. Neither of them spoke a single word as he dealt out thirteen cards for each of them and left the rest laying in the middle of the square wooden table.
"How many games would satisfy you, Lord Mormont?" Rhae Sand had asked as she put down her Knight of Hearts. Mormont had little in the way of hearts and had put down his seven.
Rhae picked up the card in the middle, the Queen of Hearts while Mormont picked up the next card. It was the ten of spades. The next card to be won was the Dragon of Diamonds.
"Enough to get the blood flowing," Starag said. He watched her place down her ten of diamonds. He flipped down his waiting Knight of Diamonds and scooped up his prize. "Do you ride, my lady?"
Those violet orbs flickered upwards and pierced into his deep blue eyes. "I do," she said simply. "I sometimes take my sand steed out along the beach to the north." She added hastily, likely to avoid being a poor conversationalist.
Good. Mormont thought to himself. While the game had started off cold, he could tell she was uncertain against his insurmountable defense of warm politeness. It wouldn't do to be rude to him when he was only being kind.
"And sometimes I'll take a boat out to the sea." Rhae's eyes had softened somewhat. "It's… calming. If that makes any sense."
Mormont understood what she meant. He was more than accustomed to the refreshing and peaceful sounds of wind moving among trees full of leaves in autumn, summer, and spring. He loved hearing the airy snowfall out on his father's balcony in Bear Keep when he was a child. My balcony now.
"It does." Starag smiled softly at the young woman sitting across from her. "Have you ever seen Bear Island?"
Rhae had shaken her head. He did not expect her to have seen it, but now he could tell she was far more interested in the conversation now. Reading about foreign places is one thing… Hearing about them first hand is another…
He continued. "It's a very cold place, of course. It's very sparse in population. Except for bears, naturally."
Mormont watched as a small, genuine smile crack across Rhae Sand's thin pink lips at the jape. "It's rather boring there initially, but there's this charm about it… It just makes you want to go back, to see the land for yourself. It… invites adventure."
"Tell me more about it." Rhae had leaned forward slightly in her seat with an excited gleam in her amethyst eyes. They still kept up with their game of cards, but most of the focus was on Mormont's description of Bear Island.
For some strange reason, he felt rather compelled to divulge this information to her. Mormont found that soon enough, even he was swept up in his foray over the softly flowing streams that were ripe with fresh salmon and haddock, of the tall trees that brushed against the harsh northern winds, and of the mounds of snow that swept over the dark verdant green grasslands and hills.
Starag Mormont never realized he'd held such a passion for his family home, and had surprised even himself with his loving descriptions and stories from his youth. He'd even managed to get a giggle out of Rhae Sand when he'd mentioned how he, Jorah, and Dacey would go hunting for dragons inside Bear Keep.
"It sounds as if you missed it terribly." Rhae's expression had softened into a light feminine smile. "And your cousins are all women?"
Mormont nodded again as he put down his King of Clubs on top of her present Queen of Clubs and snatched away the first trick. "Five of them, and then there's my aunt Maege. Sweet woman, but she's probably worried that I got stuck with a lance or something."
Another giggle had emitted from the exceedingly pretty girl's thin mouth. The sound of her childish and joyful laughter was simply intoxicating to him.
"But, I've talked enough about myself." Mormont smiled as he took away the next trick from Rhae. "What about you? What did you get up to as a child?"
Rhae Sand stiffened slightly as if she recalled a horrible memory or the like. Mormont sternly reminded himself that this girl had a particularly traumatic childhood.
He rescued the silence. "This place for instance? You've been in the Water Gardens far longer than I… It's your turn to reminisce."
That seemed to do the trick. Her violet eyes had returned to that soft youthfulness. It seemed as if the sorrow and melancholy had been wiped away from her expression completely. "I… came here when I was much younger actually…" She began.
"I grew up in a castle, so…" Rhae smiled wistfully. "I thought it was strange how the Water Gardens looked almost nothing like a palace. The walls were too low and too thin… and I couldn't figure out why there wasn't a moat…"
"How old were you?" Mormont asked.
Her cheeks had flexed upwards in delight at the childhood memory. "I was four." She answered. "I was so scared we wouldn't be able to hold off an invasion, but my father told me that if anyone invaded, we would simply jump back into the sea and swim all the way home."
Mormont leaned forward in his seat. "Home?"
Rhae had caught her breath and paused. She seemed to be doing some kind of mental gymnastics behind the calculating violet eyes. "I… I grew up on Dragonstone."
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was within the realm of possibility. She looked old enough to have been born when Rhaegar Targaryen was the Lord of Dragonstone. It was possible that Oberyn had met a woman in that particular area. The people of the Crownlands had the blood of Old Valyria within them.
This time it was her who had taken over from the brisk silence. "I suppose it's a bit similar to Bear Island, in a way…" Rhae paused. "Except for the snow… And the bears, of course."
Now it was Mormont's turn to grin and give a hearty chuckle. There was this feeling that he got from this girl… It was like his inner turmoil and pain at having to sacrifice his freedom from the world had been… erased. His prior stresses had been completely obliterated by this graceful girl's presence.
Starag Mormont found that he enjoyed this girl's company, even in the brief time they had known one another. Damn shame she prefers women…
Rhae Sand seemed to pick up a sort of confidence when her violet eyes had seen his humorous flash of perfect white teeth. "People always said that it was haunted… but I couldn't get enough of it. I was always so fascinated with the gargoyles… And the designs along the walls were so scary to others. They took on various forms; Minotaurs, Hellhounds, Manticores… It made me feel safe to know that our home was defended by such valiant and monstrous creatures."
He had never been to Dragonstone. What else was there besides a fishing village?
But as Rhae Sand had continued her descriptions of the Stone Drum, of the dragon's maw entrance that led into the great stone hall, Mormont recognized that yearning and nostalgic gleam in her violet eyes. She even spoke of Aegon's Painted Table, of how she used to run alongside the fifty-foot long table when she was alone.
"And then… my mother and I would play in Aegon's Garden." Her thin smile was simply perfect to Mormont. She positively beamed at him as the setting sun had seemingly set her crown of brown-auburn curls on fire with its warming rays. "We would chase each other around the hedges full of thorns, and we'd pick cranberries in the late morning just before lunch."
They had paused their game by this point. Mormont was up by six tricks, and so was Rhae. With only one card left each, Mormont still paid attention as she finished her story.
"Do you ever want to go back there?" He asked.
Rhae nodded her pretty little head immediately. "I do," she said. "It's like what you said about Bear Island's charm… The smell of the salt sea and smoke just makes me want to go back again. I can't stay away."
Mormont smiled and looked deep into those violet eyes sitting across from him. Gods, he just wanted to lean across the table and kiss this woman.
And when she looked back into his deep blue eyes, for just a moment, he wondered if that's what she wanted, too. There was longing in those dilated violet eyes. But isn't she…
Rhae Sand had been the first to remember that they were at the tail end of their game of Whist, and had placed down her King of Diamonds with a look of almost satisfied resignation. Mormont flipped down the Dragon of Diamonds, though the girl didn't seem wholly surprised.
"You've been holding onto that since you won it," Rhae said as she folded her hands in a lady-like manner. "I noticed you didn't play it up until now."
"So you let me win?" Mormont was unfazed but ultimately curious. "You could've drawn that Dragon out of me sooner."
"Perhaps, but I also knew you'd win lower cards to protect it, which you did in fact do."
Starag couldn't help but crack a wicked grin at the sharp young woman. "Really?"
Rhae nodded like it was obvious. "Of course, I watched your eyes every time a new card came up. You looked at the five and six of diamonds like a starved animal."
An interpreter, then… If that was the case, then she clearly knew that he had far less honorable thoughts of her. And yet, she hadn't left her seat.
"You know…" Mormont let his back rest against the chair. "I think this means we need to play another game."
Those violet eyes had locked with his deep blue orbs. He could see childish excitement behind them, as well as the tentative hesitancy. She was wondering whether or not she should leave…
Her answer came swiftly. "So do I." Rhae grinned back at him. He made to shuffle the cards again, but she was much faster.
In a matter of seconds, Rhae Sand had piled up all the cards again and was shuffling them expertly in her pale soft palms. All the while, her laughing amethyst orbs were watching him with joy and belonging.
They played several more games in the hour that followed, and passersby could hear the sounds of delighted laughter and childish feminine giggling. Some had even stopped to look at the pair of strangers sitting across the small square table from one another and had smiled.
By the time dinner was being served, Mormont had put the cards back into his breast pocket and had lit his pipe. He let out a large puff of smoke as he stood up from the table and was just a few feet away from a patiently waiting Rhae Sand.
"Shall I escort you to your room, my lady?" Starag had asked.
Rhae Sand had shaken her head. "Not tonight, Lord Mormont." She said. "I prefer finding my own way about the palace. And besides, I should be getting to bed."
Mormont nodded unconcernedly. He had no grand designs on this woman, even if he enjoyed spending time with her. He would gladly sleep alone that night. It was far better than sleeping with a loudly snoring Melissa Fowler. "Then I wish you a good evening, my lady."
And with that, Mormont gently kissed the back of her pale hand and gave her one last parting smile. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away.
He didn't notice that Rhae Sand hadn't moved. She stood watching him with soft and yearning violet eyes, and then… They had turned to sudden melancholy and regret.
It was a shame that all good things must come to an end.