Disclaimer: I don't own the Song of Ice and Fire series. ASoIaF is owned by George R.R. Martin. This fanfiction is for writing practice only and no money will be made.
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It had been several days since Lord Stark had announced that Jon would be leaving for Bear Island. Reactions had been mixed.
Lady Stark had been ecstatic, planting a kiss on infant Bran's forehead the moment it was announced, her face flushed with victory. She'd done nothing but smile since then. She was obviously deeply satisfied with Jon leaving Winterfell to serve as Lord Mormont's page on Bear Island. She was even more pleased to hear that he'd eventually be given a holding even farther away on the Sunset Sea. A holding that would be guarded by a mere wooden keep, nothing that a true lord would possess.
At least in her mind, Maege snorted contemptuously. Sea Dragon Point might be remote, but it was strategically located. It was rich in natural resources. Lady Stark's ignorance of the North shone through with her dismissal of Jon's eventual inheritance. Jon would prosper as lord of the Point.
Robb, Ned's heir, had been devastated. He and Jon were thick as thieves, on and off the practice yard. He'd vocally protested his brother leaving, even pleading with his father to change his mind. When he was refused, the eight year old lordling spent half his time crying (not that he'd ever admit it) and the other half spending every available moment in play with his brother.
Maege's heart truly ached for Robb. She'd assured Ned that the two boys would see each other at least once a year. It was a promise she meant to keep. If her dream was a foretelling, a good solid relationship between the two was vitally important if the North was to survive what was to come.
Sansa was young, but bright. She appeared to understand that Jon was moving away which made her sad. She gave him constant hugs, more as an effort to make herself feel better, Maege half suspected. She was also happy that he'd be a lord, and had taken to making smiling curtsies whenever he walked by. This caused Jon to blush and stumble, which only appeared to encourage the young girl to continue with her playful teasing.
Maege thought that Sansa had a lot of spirit. It would be a shame if her mother and the septa crushed it with their southern ways.
Arya's reaction was worse than Robb's. The three year old had clung remorselessly to Jon's leg, blubbering and begging him not to go. The first crack in Jon's stoic facade appeared then. He picked his little sister up and rubbed noses with her. He promised he'd be her brother forever. He then distracted her by offering to let her play with his wooden sword. She promptly accepted it and used it to threaten him as she chased him around the castle.
It was all so heartbreaking. Maege reassured herself that if the dream was true, it was necessary. If not true, Jon would at least be a lord and would still see his siblings from time to time.
Jon himself had not reacted when Ned announced the news. He stood there as Ned spoke, his face shadowed and guarded all the while. When his father had offered an embrace, he'd returned it silently before running off to join Robb.
His reaction, or rather lack of reaction, had made Maege frown. It was not right that a boy of eight would be so closed off emotionally. She suspected that Lady Stark had a lot to answer for, though she could point to nothing specific. Other than her reaction to the news, that is.
Privately, in her innermost traitorous thoughts, she also assigned some of the blame to Ned. He was the Lord of Winterfell. If his son feared expressing himself in his own home and around his own family, it was ultimately his lord father's responsibility.
Maege had been waiting for the boy to seek her out following Ned's decree. In the meantime, she inventoried the promised supplies and organized the wagons. Ned had been more than generous with men and supplies. It just took time to gather them all.
After several days of work, when her head began to clear, it gradually began to dawn on her that Jon was far too reserved to take the initiative in reaching out. So she put down the parchments containing the inventory, deciding that a dozen barrels of nails weren't going anywhere any time soon. She began her own search.
It took some time, but she eventually found the boy in the godswood. He was seated at the base of the heart tree, his back resting against it, his wooden practice sword resting across his knee. His long face looked serious and somber. His eyes were closed and his mouth moved in silent words.
She had to smile as she crouched down to patiently wait for him to finish praying. He was a Stark through and through, she observed with pleasure. She remembered many times his father had done exactly as Jon was doing now, complete with a sword across his legs. He was Eddard Stark in miniature.
She didn't have to wait too long until he opened his grey eyes. He gave a start as he noticed he was being observed.
"Peace, Jon," Maege said gently as she raised her hand in a calming gesture. "I thought it time we talked."
He stood and dipped his head in respectful acknowledgement. "Lady Mormont," he said quietly.
There was no inflection in his tone. Maege frowned again. Her frown deepened when she saw a small, quickly concealed flinch.
"You are to be my goodson. You can call me mother or, if you are angry with me, Maege. You don't need to call me Lady Mormont." She suspected he desperately wanted a family, but likely thought he didn't deserve one. To change that perception, she would have to convince him that he was wanted, that he was valuable, that he was loved. All of that would take time. Starting now.
He gazed back impassively as her eyes gazed into his. He did not speak.
She paused to consider her next steps, then moved to stand beside him. Some would proceed cautiously, taking small incremental steps, but not a Mormont. Besides, he needed to be treated as a boy, her son, not a king in the making.
She sat beside him, her back against the heart tree. She patted the ground next to her. "Please, Jon, sit."
He hesitated for a moment, then took a seat next to her. It did not escape her notice that he placed his wooden practice sword between the two of them. His hand stayed close by.
She suppressed a smile. He was already showing a warrior's instincts. She pulled her axe out of her belt and placed it on her side furthest from Jon. She pretended to ignore his small blush.
"Where's Robb? I thought the two of you would be running about."
Jon's eyes gazed off into the distance. "He's with his lady mother. He's learning about his mother's family."
Maege did not miss the note of longing in his voice. She did not understand why Ned refused to speak of the boy's mother. She assumed he had a good reason but for the life of her she couldn't think of a scenario where his recalcitrance to speak of her made any sense.
When her hand covered his, he tried to pull away. She held it tight. "Who am I?" she asked softly.
He looked confused. "You're Lady Mormont."
"And?" she probed.
"The Lady of Sea Dragon Point?" he offered cautiously.
She sighed. "And?"
There was a pause, and then his eyes widened. He swallowed. "My good-mother?" he asked, hesitantly and without any assurance.
She smiled at him warmly. "Exactly. Look at me and say it."
"You're my mother," he said with more assurance. A calculating look came into his eye. She suppressed another smile. He was a clever one. "Are you really my mother? My birth mother?" This time he sounded considerably bolder. And more hopeful.
She sighed and put her arm around the boy's shoulders. He tensed and gripped his wooden sword, but she pretended not to notice. He was a skinny thing, all muscle and bone. It reminded her of Olyvar. Or a half feral cat. She suppressed a laugh.
Perhaps if they'd ever had a son, he'd be much like Jon. This time she did not suppress her smile.
"No, Jon. I'm not." She genuinely was sorry. It was obvious to her that the boy needed a mother and father. Ned was too distant and the less said about Lady Catelyn the better. "I'm sorry I can't tell you about your mother, Jon. I never met her," she said gently as she pressed him close into her side. "But if I'm to be your mother now, I can tell you about my family." His body was still stiff and unyielding. Nothing to do but to charge through. "Would you like me to tell you about your new family?"
She heard him swallow. "Yes," he said awkwardly, as he tried to subtly pull away.
She didn't let him go, instead she held him tight to her side. Unless she missed her mark, he was the solemn, melancholy type of boy. She knew the type of man. If left to his own devices, he'd never speak of his pain. He'd prefer to wander off alone and stare off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. He'd be unwilling to express his emotions, except for the occasional explosive bout of temper.
She felt sorry for those men. They were far too common in the North.
If that was the type of man he grew to be, so be it. But in the meantime, starting today, she was going to be his mother even if she had to kick in the doors to his heart. No child of the Mormonts would ever think they were alone, that they had no one to talk to, no one to hold.
"The Mormonts are not the richest house, far from it. It would be fair to say we're poorer than most. But King Rodrick Stark gave our family Bear Island centuries ago because we had courage and loyalty in abundance. We still do. Whenever the Starks call, the Mormonts march . . .," she continued in this vein for hours, ignoring the boy's tense muscles and then his small fidgets as he attempted to figure out a polite way to escape her side-long embrace.
She didn't give him the chance. She was just getting to the single combat between Lord Mormont and Mern V, the King of the Reach, which won House Mormont its Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, when she felt him relax. Looking down, she saw he'd dozed off. She smiled again and kissed the top of his forehead.
She leaned back into the heart tree and closed her eyes. A nap didn't sound like a bad idea at all.
She woke a small time later to a slight tug under her leg. Before dozing she'd placed her leg over the blade on the wooden sword, reasoning he would be loath to leave it behind. She was glad to see she'd correctly anticipated him.
She stretched. "Did you have a nice nap, Jon?" She stifled a yawn. Too many weeks on the road and too many long days organizing the long trip back had taken more out of her than she realized.
"Going somewhere?" she asked in an amused tone when she noticed he'd moved just out of reach of her arm. He really didn't like to be touched. She'd have to keep working on that, she thought as she stood.
"I promised I'd practice swords with Robb this afternoon," he said defensively.
"And are you requesting my leave to go practice?"
He nodded, ducking his head just a bit.
"Three things, Jon. First, if you want to address me, be sure you use my name. Say it."
He fidgeted, but finally, said, "mother," half under his breath. She beamed in approval.
"Second, you'll find that mothers and sisters can be very demanding when it comes to time and attention. We're very nosy. We don't like to be ignored." She spread her arms wide. "Your mother would like a hug before you go."
He blanched at that. Good. He was finally showing emotion. She smiled at him again and he hesitantly, slowly, moved to give her a hug. He'd obviously intended to quick one, but she gathered him in and held her there.
"Say it again, Jon," she demanded as she planted her second kiss atop his hair.
He gave her a weary sigh as he weakly returned her hug. "May I have leave to go practice with Robb, mother?"
She lifted her foot off his practice sword, as she let him escape her embrace. "Of course, Jon."
He snatched up his sword as soon as it was free of her foot.
"There is the third thing, Jon," she said, fixing him with the eye Dacey claimed froze the blood in her veins. "Mormonts never bow their heads. Keep your chin high and always look the man you're speaking to in the eye. Understood?"
He stopped his head bob midway. "Yes, mother," he said almost reflexively as he both lifted his head and inched away. It was obvious he wanted to be gone.
"And I expect my son to sit at my side at the high table tonight." Her tone was intentionally imperious. She wanted to see how he'd react to her most recent demand.
He swallowed, but resolutely looked her in the eye. Good, she thought, he's learning. "Lady Stark won't like that," he said questioningly. When she increased the intensity of her glare, he added an awkward, "mother."
Her smile was almost predatory. "You'll find, Jon, that there are many benefits to joining the Mormont family. One of which is we say what we think. We also don't care for the opinions of southerners."
The smile he gave her in return was wide and genuine. She tousled his hair and sent him on his way. It may have been her imagination, but his step was much lighter than she was used to.
Jon was right. Lady Catelyn was not best pleased when she sat her son next to her at the high table. Ned gave Jon a proud smile, which her son tentatively returned. Then being a small boy, he engaged Robb in an intense but hushed discussion.
From what words she could pick up, she had no doubt as to the topic of their conversation. Whispered references to Aemon Dragonknight and Ser Barristan Selmy was more than a sufficient hint. Boys had long compared their heroes and argued over which was greater, as if it were a mystery only they could resolve.
As do girls, she thought, remembering an overheard conversation between Dacey and Alysanne, arguing which was greater, Queen Nymeria or Visenya Targaryen. Personally, Maege favored Nymeria in that debate. If only because she wasn't a kinslayer.
The following days were a blur of activity. They were finally ready to leave five days later. Jon was the proud owner of a garron gifted to him by his father. He'd named him Rusher as it was always so eager to run.
There were tears at Jon's parting. Ned had to take Arya to prevent her from bodily restraining Jon, his gift of his wooden sword to her being insufficient this time to quell her crying. Robb's eyes were wet, though he did not cry. Jon's demeanor mirrored Robb's. Sansa gave her brother one last curtsy before throwing herself into his arms, begging him to write. He agreed, awkwardly patting her on the back.
Lady Catelyn did not make an appearance. Neither did the infant, Bran, who remained in his mother's care. Maege's already limited respect for Ned's wife plummeted further, though her respect for her liege lord had increased beyond what she thought possible.
Maege had arrived at Winterfell with six Mormont men at arms. Ned had asked for volunteers among his armsmen, and more than twenty had stepped up. They were all veterans of Robert's Rebellion. Each was known to Maege as reliable, tested men. Though they were older, Maege thought he'd given her the best of his men.
He'd also armed and armored them, providing each with a horse, all at his expense. They would not be returning, each now wearing Mormont colors. He'd provided another hundred shields, spears and axes to expand their forces once settled. She was leaving with a much stronger force than she arrived with, one that she was capable of growing, all thanks to a father trying to do his best for his natural son.
Which was a relief, as nearly fifty wagons and carts were accompanying them. The wagons were filled with supplies thought suited to the Point. Maester Luwin had advised that tubers and other root vegetables, onions, assorted berries, and cherry and apple trees, were the best crops to grow in the soils and climate around the Point. Ned had been generous with seed and cuttings for a variety of potential crops, as well as a small herd of cattle to get agriculture started at the Point. He promised more to follow, a pledge of assistance Maege found overwhelming.
The wagons were also packed with hammers, picks, shovels, axes, saws, adzes, planes, awls and a variety of other tools necessary to build a keep and establish a village. They'd be of great use to the near dozen stonemasons and carpenters, Ned had loaned her.
They would be invaluable in building the keep, which was already in progress. Jorah's raven had advised her that Olyvar and over a hundred Mormont men had already made camp at the Point and were busy felling trees and moving earth, so hopefully she would not need to monopolize these skilled men's time more than necessary. She did not want to take too much advantage of Ned's generosity.
Also accompanying them were her first smallfolk. Well over three score families had been gathered from Stark lands. They were almost all younger sons and their wives looking to establish their own farms, hoping to avoid the fate of being a paid laborer for an older brother or uncle. Ned had been generous to each of them, making small gifts which would assist them in getting started in their new lives.
Including Timmon, a grandson of Mikken, Winterfell's smith, his wife and their two daughters. He had learned his trade at his grandfather's knee, but wanted independence and the chance to establish his own forge. One wagon was packed with the material he'd need to establish his own forge, a gift from his proud but scowling grandfather. His presence was a blessing from the gods, Maege thought, a smith who could forge castle steel.
She had been pleased when looking over her party. They were exactly the sort of loyal but ambitious men she was hoping to attract.
She knew more would be on the way, as Ned had sent ravens to all his bannermen. He'd asked for any volunteers and any extra mouths to be sent to the Point, promising them land and room to practice their trades. He'd also requested that gifts of any spare supplies be sent to best ensure the success of the endeavor.
Maege knew that a request from Ned would be taken as an order by his bannermen. Even the traitor houses, she thought, suppressing a scowl, would endeavor to outdo their neighbors in an effort to feign their loyalty.
Those ravens were his most precious gift, she knew. Even more precious than the chest of silver he'd gifted her which she kept concealed and locked in the sturdiest wagon.
She'd succeeded beyond her wildest imaginings. When she'd left Olyvar for Winterfell she'd merely hoped for the grant of the Point and Jon for one of her daughters. Ned had done far more. He'd already half made Jon a true lord, she thought with a warm glow. And if the clans and others answered the call, he might become even more.
She pulled even with Jon at the front of the column. An armsman was on the other side of Jon. Maege had noticed that an armed man was always in close proximity to her son. She presumed it must be on Ned's orders.
"Are you ready to go home, son?" she asked with an exuberant smile, half laughing. It made her heart lift to see his return smile. She felt ready to burst with pride when she saw he was wearing a green surcoat with the black Mormont bear stitched on it. When she spurred her horse, he did the same keeping pace with her.
When the Long Night comes, she vowed, House Mormont would stand ready.
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AN: Jon's horse's name of 'Rusher' is taken from the name of Roland's horse in Steven King's Dark Tower series.
AN: I think Sea Dragon Point sounds close to what Oregon would be like, at least in my imagination. So I based what crops they'd grow off of the internet's opinion of what Oregon does for agriculture. As the world of ASOIAF does not have potatoes, I omitted them from description, but carrots, beets, radishes, onions and turnips appear to be a thing.