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.

W&B W&B W&B

The road was long and slow with so many in their train. Maege was half tempted to abandon the caravan in favor of speed but restrained herself. She was the Lady of Sea Dragon Point and Jon was its someday Lord. It was important that they be seen protecting their people.

It also helped to get to know them. Within a week both she and Jon were on a first name basis with most, though they insisted on tacking on 'Lady' in front of her name. Her insistence that things were done differently in Mormont holdings was respectfully ignored.

Jon had expressed his amusement at her frustration, until he overheard himself being referred to as the 'Little Lord'. Maege had to chuckle. Boy or man, no male appreciated being called 'little'.

When they finally turned west off the King's Road, Maege was surprised to find an encampment. More than a score of wagons and carts were formed in a protective circle. While it was arranged as a place of refuge, it did little to contain the people it was meant to protect, as their numbers were overflowing.

Three fires were being tended, as a group of hunters with two deer strung up on poles entered the camp to a hero's welcome, Children were running about playing, chasing dogs and being chased. Women wandered picking berries and wild tubers. Maege was pleased that at least some were armed, though most were not.

It looked all the world to Maege as if an entire holdfast had picked up and moved. She didn't know what to make of it.

A half dozen armed men mounted on mountain ponies patrolled. They'd noticed Maege's caravan almost immediately and spurred toward her.

She recognized one of the men. Older, grey and grizzled, with a face and hands which were cross-crossed with scars.

"Harlaw?" she asked, surprised. "Harlaw Norrey?" He'd once paid court to her when he was looking for a second wife, at her brother's insistence, but she'd disliked his temper and dark moods. She sometimes had the same temper and was just as moody, so she was sure she'd have likely gutted him if they'd ever wed.

The man flashed her a lopsided smile. Several of his teeth were missing. A number of the rest were black and broken. Harlaw Norrey was a known warrior. His face and hands bore testament that he was a man who gave hard knocks and never flinched from receiving them in turn.

"The one and the same," he replied with an amused laugh. She noticed the laugh did not reach his eyes. She kept her hand near her axe. It was wise to be wary of men such as Harlaw. "Though if you accept me and my men, I'll be the Norrey of Sea Dragon Point and you'll be the Maege."

She should have known. This was her first evidence of the true value of Ned's gift of ravens. She gave him a level look. "I think we need to talk."

"Aye."

It took a good while to get her wagons formed in a protective circle, namely as it was the first time she'd attempted it. She could have kicked herself when she saw Norrey's. And his use of outriders. The man took no chances, even if deep in the North supposedly surrounded by friends.

Maege appreciated the reminder. She'd been floating on a cloud since she'd left Winterfell and she'd needed a kick to bring her back to reality. Hard times were coming and good habits needed to be developed now. Especially if she was to teach young Jon how to be a proper lord and warleader.

Once her people were situated, and after she'd silenced the grumblers, she collected Jon before heading over to meet Harlaw. "Watch what he does, Jon," she instructed. It was only as she moved toward his camp that she noticed a half dozen archers in the tree line. She pointed them out to the boy. "The man's been fighting wildlings and other clans for nearly three decades. He's someone to learn from."

Jon nodded solemnly in reply. She smiled when she saw him hesitantly reach up to take her hand, only to quickly pull away when he realized what he was doing. Over the last several days, he'd been initiating small physical touches. A quick hug here, a pat there. Nothing prolonged.

Yesterday when they'd established camp, he'd held her hand as they walked among their people. It was a small thing, but one which made her heart glow.

Now he obviously wanted to hold her hand, but thought he shouldn't. She suspected he wanted to appear brave. He didn't want to be seen seeking comfort from a woman when meeting a new, fearsome lord.

She was all in favor of boys being brave, especially her boy. She was also in favor of her children taking her hand. So she moved to his other side and took his hand. She was careful to keep her weapon hand free, and her axe loose in its scabbard.

He turned red with embarrassment, and looked away from her. "Jon, it's never wrong to show affection to those you care about. Just make sure you're always ready to protect them." She waved her free hand at him to attract attention and then placed it on her axe head. She saw his eyes widen in understanding. "Your enemies will always try to hurt you through the ones you love."

He looked pointedly at his sword hand, which was now held in her off hand. "I can't protect you, mother, if you're holding my hand, can I?" He didn't pull away but seemed at a loss as he reached across his body to the long dagger on his hip. He obviously didn't like the awkward draw.

She stopped him and knelt to be on his level. "It's a parents' job to protect their children while they're growing, Jon. You can protect me and Olyvar when we're old, grey and weak." She kissed his forehead. She was proud of how the boy thought. Ned Stark had done well raising him. "You're still growing. Let me worry about protecting you now. You worry about growing stronger."

The return look he gave her was skeptical. "Or I could just wear a second knife," he opined slyly, mimicking her as he waggled his left hand before resting it on his empty belt riding his left hip.

She had to laugh. Was it all boys who clamored for sharp blades or only her own?

"A second knife it is, Jon," she promised, trying to keep her grin in check.

When she stood and resumed their progress toward Norrey's protective ring, he didn't try to pull away. She thought he might even be standing somewhat taller. She felt her heart melt looking at him. He was truly a little lord.

She hated how the boy had obviously been starved for maternal affection. Left unchecked, it could sour all his future relationships. She wondered if the Night King had been this way. A dour, loved starved Stark who settled for the only thing that had ever shown him affection, an ice demon in a woman's body.

She dismissed her fanciful thoughts. She needed to focus on building Jon's strength and the strength of the North. Not on the Night King's relationship, or lack of one, with his mother.

Norrey was flanked by two men when they arrived. He was crouching before a small fire, a pot with a bubbling stew hanging overtop. All three men had weapons close by, but not so close that they were obviously threatening.

"Maege," he greeted her warmly. "Share my fire." He looked at Jon. "Your boy?"

She pulled Jon down to sit next to her. His muscles were tight under her arm. It was obvious he didn't feel comfortable around strange men. That was alright. Norrey and his companions made her cautious too.

"Jon is my goodson," she half agreed. "He's pledged to my Dacey. He's Lord Stark's natural son."

Norrey's eyes sharpened with interest. "So he'll have the Point someday?"

"Aye, when he weds my Dacey." She accepted an offered battered tin bowl filled with stew from one of Norrey's companions but handed it to Jon. "Eat," she commanded her son.

She truly doubted Norrey intended anything nefarious. Ned's grip on the North was firm and he tolerated no slights. He'd even torn down a king to avenge his family. But the North was filled with wild, fey folk. Ensuring guest right was simple prudence.

Jon caught her meaning and promptly took a bite, using a chunk of bread as a spoon. He looked surprised. Then he took another and another. "This is good," he said in genuine appreciation, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Norrey laughed as he handed Maege another bowl. "I'm famous for two things; my blade and my hunter's stew," he boasted. He handed his companions bowls as well as they all settled in next to the fire. "There are worse things to build a reputation on."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jon smile at that. "Aye," she agreed. She looked at the man across the fire. "Now let's discuss your service."

The next few hours were both frustrating and beneficial. Norrey haggled like a fish wife. Thankfully, her goodmother was a fish wife so she had his measure. Slowly, but surely they came to an agreement on the terms of his oath.

Maege knew full well that he desperately wanted his own hall to escape his cousin's authority. Brandon Norrey was a slight man, but he ruled his clan with an iron fist. Harlaw didn't have many options other than House Mormont.

"Damn you, woman," he finally growled in frustration. "You're beggaring me!" His glare might have frightened a lesser warrior, but she was lesser to no one.

"Not hardly," she replied drily. "Take comfort that your fellow chiefs will be swearing the same oath. I won't have one rule for one bannerman and a different rule for another."

He stared at her hard and long, before his face broke into a lopsided smile. "Well then," he said, putting out his arm. "We have a deal."

After she grasped his forearm confirming their agreement, the atmosphere noticeably lightened. Everyone in the camp burst out into a spontaneous celebration. A clear liquid brew of the Norrey clan was brought out and offered round.

Maege was very cautious with the Norrey's home brewed alcohol. In her youth she'd traveled all over the North. She'd visited the clans more than once and had over imbibed their strange drink once or twice. It was potent stuff and she'd always regretted it.

She made sure that Jon only took a mouthful. Enough to avoid offense, but too little for her son to take ill. Considering the coughing fit he suffered on his first and only effort, much to Norrey's amusement, she doubted he'd be seeking it out again anytime soon.

She was not surprised to discover that the two men flanking Norrey were his sons. They had his look about them, just with fewer scars and more teeth.

The same held true of the rest of the encampment. They were all relations, to a greater or lesser degree. The mountains that housed the Norrey clan had thin soil and was fit for only goats and sheep. It was a hard life. Stories of the richness of the Point had spread, and they all hoped for something better. They thought others might join them, if the stories proved true.

Their former chief, Brandon Norrey, was glad to see the back of them. It opened more pastures for those who stayed and he managed to rid himself of some malcontents.

Harlaw Norrey was one of those malcontents. His grandmother had been an iron born reaver who'd been captured in a raid. Somehow she'd managed to avoid being killed out of hand and found herself a husband among the clansmen. Some of her grasping ways had been injected into her sons and grandsons.

Maege promised herself that she'd keep an eye on Norrey. If he honored his grandfather and father's blood, he'd be a good man on their side in a fight. If he had more of his grandmother, then he'd be a problem. Maege touched her axe. She was a firm believer in dealing with problems sooner, rather than later.

Her caution with the Norrey brew proved wise the next morning. She and Jon were one of the few who woke with the sun, clear headed.

". . . and this, Jon," she growled as she kicked another of her men awake, "is why you should always drink in moderation!"

Her son nodded solemnly in agreement, as he added his efforts to hers in getting their people up and moving. It was a very late start.

The days turned to weeks as they followed the southern coast of the Bay of Ice down, around and up toward Sea Dragon Point. As they moved they were overtaken by advance riders from other clans and houses, all seeking to negotiate terms.

She gave them all the same terms she'd offered to Norrey. He appeared satisfied when she didn't deviate and made no exceptions, no matter how they cajoled or brought up past friendships or family ties.

She didn't think what she was requiring was overly onerous. Ned had walked her through what each of his lords promised him and what their bannermen promised them, at least in broad strokes. Some of the additional minor details were strange, such as the Umbers' promise to the Starks of an annual snowball made at the top of the Wall, but largely all his lords had the same basic obligations.

Maege assumed they hoped she'd prove naive, as she was a newly minted lord, and they'd be able to take advantage. Fortunately, Ned had foreseen the effort and given her the information to safeguard her interests and Jon's.

The Point was a long, wide peninsula which jutted into the Bay of Ice on one side and the Sunset Sea on the other. She suspected that it was easily twice the size of Bear Island, if not larger.

By the time she reached the tip of the Point, where her seat would be built, the size of their caravan had grown to nearly two hundred carts and wagons, and a large number of walkers leading mules, herding goats, sheep and cattle.

More than half, she knew, would not be settling near her keep. Every clan and house wanted their own lands and some amount of freedom. Each had been sending out riders to explore the land on offer, each trying to find the most favorable location for their halls.

She was pleased to see that they were not disappointed. The Point was covered in hills and forests, dotted with lakes, and rivers and streams cross-crossed the landscape. There was something here for everyone.

Her outriders reported the location of the Mormont work crew a day before they arrived. When they did, the scene was breathtaking.

A long, wide, sloping, circular ditch had been built about two bow shots away from a beach which rested in a large sheltered cove. Numerous, large stacks of timber waited for placement. A half dozen fishing boats, small ones meant for one and two man crews, rested on the beach.

She suspected her husband intended to build a ringfort to protect their people. She approved his effort, even though it was now too small. He'd built for three times the number of people provided by Lord Stark. She'd had no way of letting him know they'd greatly increased their numbers as they traveled.

To the right, the ground steadily rose until ending in a promontory. The cliff was heavily wooded. To her surprise, it was covered in a grove of weirwoods. Two streams poured off the eastern cliff face, creating two miniature waterfalls cascading into the bay below.

The reunion was joyous. Olyvar took her into his arms and spun her around. It took her a small while to force herself to separate from him. She'd truly missed him in the moons she'd been gone.

All of her daughters were present, from tall, thin Dacey, to the chubby little ones. Her girls made no effort to hide their emotions when they embraced her. Tears and laughter flowed as hugs and kisses were exchanged.

Jon stood there all the while, silent and obviously uncomfortable. Maege was embarrassed to admit she'd forgotten him in the heat of the moment.

She pulled him forward. "Olyvar, this is your new son, Jon."

Jon had learned at least his part of his lesson from Maege. He looked his goodfather in the eye as he spoke. "I'm pleased to meet you, my lord," he said respectfully.

Maege sighed. Boys were harder to train the girls, she suspected.

Olyvar laughed. "I'm no lord." He ran a critical eye over Jon. "Well?" he said, flexing his arm to put his bicep on display, "let me see yours."

Maege sighed again. Husbands were just as difficult to train as boys.

Jon seemed unsure for a moment, then grinned as he flexed. He was scrawny and so there was only the barest thread of muscle visible. He twisted his face into a mad grimace as he continued to strain in a futile effort to make his bicep pop.

Maege saw no improvement, though Olyvar laughed. "Well, done, boy," he said as he tousled his hair, before patting him on the back.

The youngest two girls, Lyanna and Jorelle, were both taken with Jon. The toddler, Jorelle, gave his leg a hug when they introduced him as her brother. The infant, Lyanna, just burbled and grabbed his nose. She decided to interpret that as a good sign.

Lyra, who was of age with him, was more vocal. "Do you joust?" she asked bluntly.

Seeing his hesitant nod, she beamed. "Then you can meet me at the tiltyard." She glanced around at the state of construction, or lack of it. She scowled. "Or you can when it's finally built."

Jon seemed to be finding his feet. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."

She scoffed. "I'm no lady. I'll be a knight someday," she claimed. Her eyes challenged Jon to disagree.

Thankfully, her son was cleverer than that. "Then we can be knights together. I'm to be a page to your uncle, Lord Jorah."

"I know." She glared at her mother. "I could be his page too."

Maege decided to intervene. "That's enough for now, Lyra. We've discussed this."

Her middle child's only response was to cross her arms and roll her eyes, before looking away. Maege arched her eyebrow at her husband. He'd obviously let discipline slacken in her absence. He shrugged as if to say, what could he do?

Alysane was polite when introduced. She hugged Jon briefly with a whispered, "brother," before releasing him. It made Jon blush. Aly looked him over. "You need to eat more," she said matter of factly.

Maege smiled fondly at the girl who reminded her so much of herself. She would be an excellent big sister.

Dacey was charming, but distant, when she was introduced to Jon as her betrothed. As she gave Jon a quick hug, she shot her mother a look of disbelief as she stood more than a head taller than the boy she was expected to marry. Jon just looked lost.

Maege decided to nip that in the bud. "Dacey," she said addressing her eldest sternly, "he'll grow." She put her arm on Jon's shoulder. "If she gives you any grief, son, challenge her to a spar in the practice yard." Dacey's disbelief grew. Maege smiled widely at her. "Your intended is tough. You might be surprised at how hard you'd have to work to put him down."

Jon seemed pleased to hear her praise, but his countenance was serious when he said to Dacey, "I hope I don't disappoint you, my lady."

She smiled wanly at him. "Please call me Dacey. And I look forward to meeting you in the practice yard."

After the introductions were over, Maege and Olyvar sent the children off to get to know one another. They spent the rest of the day getting their people situated.

Timmon quarreled briefly with a cooper as to where he'd set up his forge. Timmon won, which meant the cooper's ruffled feathers had to be smoothed. Olyvar laughed at her efforts to play the diplomat.

The carpenters eagerly inspected the cut timber, while the masons and engineers divided into teams. One team headed up the promontory to inspect the cliffs, while another began measuring her husband's ditch. They didn't appear pleased.

All three groups agreed that the village needed more space, though the existing trench and timber could be used to form an inner ring. Two of the carpenters took charge of the existing work crew to begin construction.

An outer ring was paced off. They drove stakes into the ground to mark where they'd have to dig. The preliminary estimate was that they'd need a lot more timber than was on hand. Two more of the carpenters begin to assign work crews who were tasked with felling even more trees. Fortunately, they had no lack of forest to draw from.

The cutters, masons and engineers had their heads together the entire while. It was late in the day when they approached her.

"We think we have found a suitable site for a fortress, Lady Maege," said the senior engineer, a wizened man, the only hair on his head a wispy, snowy beard. "It seems ideal."

Maege frowned. "My hall will be in the village." She looked over the site. "Perhaps in what will be the inner ring."

The engineer nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes, that will be fine," he said impatiently. "But Lord Stark was precise in his instructions. We are to assist in building your village and hall. But we are to build the strongest keep possible for Lord Snow. We have selected the site." He pointed up toward the promontory. "Would you like to see it before we begin laying out the design?"

Ned had said nothing of this to her. She had a suspicion that he'd been even more generous than she initially thought. She nodded numbly as the senior engineer led her up the promontory.

The weirwoods were silent and thick, their red leaves almost blocking the sun, Maege observed as they picked a path through the trees. Some might have found it ominous. Maege found it restful.

The promontory cliff that she'd observed from the beach had been largely obscured. It was actually two cliffs, or close to it. The mainland portion ended abruptly with a large drop, only for the land to swell back up forming an almost island-like peninsula. The upward approach appeared almost impassable.

The wizened engineer pointed to the almost island. "We can cut stairs into the rock," he stated brusquely, "on both sides of the cliff face. It shouldn't prove too difficult. Once we have secure access to the island, we can better assess our options." He gestured to the north and west sides of the island. "We think we can cut down into the stone, forming natural walls on two sides." He pointed to the southern side, closest to where they were standing. "We can link the island to the mainland with a rope bridge. We can also use a pulley system to haul additional stone and timber up if we decide on a landward approach."

Maege stood quietly, thinking. This would cost money and time. Her eyes roamed the peninsula. She couldn't deny the strength of the location. Even without erecting defenses, it would be difficult to attack. Waves crashed against three sides of the intended site, far below its summit.

"How much?" she finally asked.

The engineer waved his hand. "Lord Stark is paying. He instructed me to approve a site, with your consent. He'll send additional men and material once I report to him." He cocked his head at her. "Would Lord Mormont allow us the use of his ravens?"

She nodded as her head swam. This would make a strong castle. "How long?" she croaked.

He shrugged again. "I don't know. We'll have to obtain access to the island first, then we can better evaluate. The masons and stone cutters will primarily work with me. The carpenters will focus on the village until we find a use for them."

She agreed and the men resumed their intense discussions. They were acting like children who had been handed a bag full of candy. She left them to their work as she slowly headed back to the village site.

Lord Stark had not stinted in his bounty. With the people pouring in, she'd have a small town in a year or two at most. She wondered if the old gods were influencing him. Her ability to prepare for the Long Night had taken a massive upturn, with little effort on her part.

Days passed. The children got to know one another. The older three had taken to racing their horses against Jon's Rusher. Sometimes they sparred with wooden swords and staves. Dacey and Aly dominated the younger two, of course, but she was pleased to see that her son never quit. He gave as good as he got, and never complained when he was knocked down or bruised. Her daughters were not the sort to coddle a brother.

He'd make a fine Mormont, unless he chose to take another name when he came of age.

Dacey gradually warmed to Jon. She still cast her mother looks of consternation every now and then, but at least she was treating him as a younger brother and not a pariah. Maege thought she could build on that.

Jori worshiped the ground that Jon walked on. He was always giving her rides on his garron, heading any direction she cared to point. He'd won her undying loyalty as all three of her older sisters were too busy for the babies, as they put it.

While her children played, her people were in constant motion. Some were clearing fields for farmland, others fished, most cut timber and dug. It was exhausting work but no one complained over much.

She spent her days marking out boundaries for her bannermen. Fortunately, she had land to spare, and then some. It was also a blessing that the land was rife with landmarks. Clearly marking where one lord's territory began and the next's began required only a token effort.

Her nephew arrived two weeks after she did. Jorah seemed amazed at the activity. He seemed a little put out with the work being done on Jon's keep, the stone cutters having made considerable progress toward the island's summit. Maege thought his upset was more a matter that his social junior, his aunt, would eventually have a stronger hold than he himself held. Wisely, he said nothing.

He did seem to like the boy, to Maege's relief. Jorah was as moody as she was sometimes. He was prone to snap judgements and rash decisions. Maege was grateful that he didn't reject Jon as his page and eventual squire, though even a man as bullheaded as Jorah Mormont would not want to needlessly offend Lord Stark.

It wasn't until Jorah returned to Bear Island with Jon that she had her first real experience of some of the problems that came with being both a lord and a mother. Each evening her people would gather around behind their ditches, bonfires lit, and dance and sing after a day's work.

She did not begrudge them their fun. They were all enduring back breaking labor. They'd earned some relaxation.

However, she was disturbed to see that one of Harlaw's sons, Rill, she thought, was spending entirely too much time around Dacey. He was a decade her senior, tall, strong and handsome. Whether it was simple conversation, wild dances around the campfire, or walks along the beach, he was an obvious charmer. She understood why her daughter would not be opposed to being the object of his attention.

It took her some time to divine what was happening. He was courting her. Both father and son had to understand how it looked. Both knew she was promised to Jon. Why he would do so took her a fair amount of time to unravel, but when she did she had to laugh.

Harlaw was a clever man. He obviously had a fair amount of his grandmother's blood. He thought if Rill won Dacey, his son would one day be the Lord of Sea Dragon Point.

She briefly considered discussing the issue with Dacey. She put that thought quickly aside. Dacey was truly her daughter. Trying to separate her from Rill would only push her into his arms, much like her reaction to her brother's efforts against Olyvar.

No, she decided, she needed to nip this in the bud at the source. Which is why she and a dozen of her men found themselves outside Harlaw's half-built hall in the drizzling rain one early morning.

Harlaw had built his hall only two hours away on foot from her own. It was a tall, gloomy thing, long and wide, located on a broad hill, and surrounded by a deep ditch. Larger than was necessary for the numbers he'd brought with him, she observed.

He must be anticipating more settlers from Clan Norrey. The thought pleased her.

He greeted her jovially when she dismounted. "Maege," he cried, "it's good to see you!"

She nearly cringed at his effort at false cheer. It was painfully obvious that Harlaw was not meant to be a plotter, which was actually a bit of a relief.

"It won't work," she said bluntly as she took a seat next to him at a far table.

He seemed surprised. "What won't work?"

She rolled her eyes. "Dacey and Rill."

He was momentarily taken aback. Then his false cheer evaporated and he leaned forward, his eyes thunderous. "Are you forbidding my son from courting your daughter?" He seemed to loom as his voice took a dangerous edge.

She snorted. "No. I'll support Dacey in whatever she wants to do." She drank from the proffered tankard. It was a dark ale and quite good. She made a note to acquire some casks. "Taking Sea Dragon Point is what I was referring to," she said calmly as she smacked her lips after taking another drink. The ale really was good. She wondered if she could steal his brewer away.

He leaned back again. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

Good. He's listening, she thought.

"Lord Stark granted House Mormont the Point on condition that a daughter of House Mormont married a son of House Stark. Jon is the designated son." She took another long pull as his eyes widened in realization. "If Rill steals Dacey away, Dacey loses her inheritance. Another Mormont daughter would have to be provided. If your kinsmen steals them all away, House Mormont will lose the Point after putting a lot of effort into developing it." She put her tankard down. She had to resist asking for another. "Lord Stark wouldn't likely take offense as Jon or another of his sons will still take the Point. House Mormont, on the other hand, would be wroth with you."

She stood and looked down at her clever, but not overly so, bannerman. "If Rill truly desires Dacey, and she reciprocates, her dowry is twenty head of cattle or thirty sheep."

He followed behind her as she left his hall and mounted her horse. She smiled at him. It was a genuine thing. She always enjoyed clearing the air. "Speak with your son about his intentions. Choose wisely, Lord Norrey."

Rill cut ties with her daughter within the week.

Dacey was inconsolable. Maege, however, was smugly satisfied as she held her daughter, comforting her. She murmured sympathetic nothings in her ear, secure in the knowledge that her daughter's position would be strong, once the Long Night arrived.

W&B W&B W&B

AN: The Norrey alcohol is a rough form of whiskey.

AN: The tribute of an annual snowball was actually something that one small Scottish clan paid in tribute to another larger clan. At least according to a history book I read once.

AN: The keep they are building is loosely based on Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, complete with the two fresh water streams on the isolated peninsula, which is almost an island.