I do not own nor claim to own any of GRRM's works, nor am I profiting off this story.

Longest chapter yet this one, enjoy!

Chapter 8- Brains over Brawn

They left swiftly before the bodies were noticed by villagers, slowly emerging from the sound of clashing steel. They mounted their horses and cantered away, heading north towards the coast of the Bay of Ice. The moon was full as they rode, moonlight bathing them and their horses. They rode for an hour in silence, along a long, straight dusty track until coming to a sheltered stony beach, with several small jetties stretching into the dark murky water. They rode along the docks finding empty cogs and fishing boats with tired sailors bluntly refusing them. Eventually, they found a small ship moored in the far corner of the cove. An on-call ferry to Bear Island for whoever needed it. Perfect. The captain was old and haggard, and after assuring them that he needed very little sleep in his old age and was fully fit to sail, they launched that instance.

"She may not be the biggest" he grunted, hauling on a sheet as Jagare watched fascinated. "But she's fast and sturdy. And…" He winked at Jagare knowingly. "I keep my mouth shut." They couldn't hand over their silver fast enough. Jagare kept his eye on the shore the entire time they were leaving. In the darkness, he could just make out some torchlights waving on the shore. Flickers of fire, meant they were followed.

"It will be a while before they can find a ship to chase us, laddie." Jagare turned to see the grizzled old sea captain staring at him thoughtfully. He had only a single eye, the other was covered in a black leather patch. "You're not the first I've taken who needed a quick getaway in the dark. Not my business who crosses the Bay of Ice, if the gods wanted them for their crimes, they would meet their fate in the woods of Bear Island." He grinned a gruesome smile and turned back to the wheel, humming a tune. Jagare gulped.

The ship could hardly be called a ship at all, more of a cog that had been stripped of most onboard. No barrels, armoury, or crates on the ship, with minimal water and food. According to the captain it was built purely for speed and storms, a small underdeck with two cabins and a fairly empty cargo hold. The journey would take around a day as long as the captain was able to sleep for some of it. The captain liked to rest in the hold, so Tommo took one cabin, and they took the other. They all agreed that sleep was paramount for the time being, and Jagare was out the moment his head hit the back of the hammock with Lyanna curled against his chest.

Both he and Lyanna were woken up the next morning by the clash of steel on steel and a scream next to them. In a second, Jagare had promptly fallen out of the hammock and crashed to the floor, spinning upwards holding a leather flask as a weapon. His long uncut hair fell over his eyes, but when he brushed it aside expecting a traitorous captain, he was met with the smirking face of Tommo, who sheathed his knife and sword with a laugh.

"Good to see your waking reactions are up to scratch. Though Lyanna, you could use slightly more alertness so that you're awake before you hit the floor." Lyanna pulled herself off the wooden boards with a growl.

"You are a right prick. A simple prod would have sufficed. I would have even settled for a soft kick. Didn't deserve a bloody call to arms." Jagare, whose heart and mind were still racing with thoughts of Glover men swarming their ship merely grunted in agreement and pushed his hair back to calm his breathing. Tommo however looked at them with a frown, a strange look on his normally cheerful face.

"I think I deserved that for a few reasons actually. But now I've had my fun, I'll let you wake up properly." He winked with his normal grin at Lyanna, who then picked up a discarded wooden bowl and threw it at him right as he darted out the door with another laugh.

"He has got a point" yawned Jagare as he pulled off his tunic and replaced it with a fresh one from their bags.

"Aye, I suppose we did give him quite a shock last night," Lyanna spoke softly as she took off her sleeping shift. Jagare on instinct turned his head, going red. Lyanna simply laughed at him.

"Always the modest one, I don't mind you seeing you know." By the time that sentence processed his mind, and he turned his head, she was already pulling on her leathers and furs. "Too late" she spoke with an innocent look. He shook his head and she grinned at him. Secretly, he was annoyed that he turned that late. Instead, he bought the conversation back to Tommo.

"Seriously though Lyanna, he could have died last night. There was no reason for him to jump into that fight, he could have left us and carried on happily. Why didn't he?" She cocked her head slightly and stared at the floor.

"I suppose" she started slowly. "I suppose that we have lived in a world of mistrust and deception our entire life and forgot that there are actually good people in the world." Jagare thought about that for a moment then nodded his head. She was right, there were such things as good people. Just not that many.

"I suppose it might be possible…but we owe him now. That's undeniable."

"While I am touched to my very core" came a voice from above them "you two do still have some explaining to do, now get up here."
"How does he…" Lyanna muttered whilst Jagare just groaned and pulled on his cloak. They had little possession apart from what they had carried in the saddlebags. The horses they had to set free at the docks, which troubled Jagare slightly. Horses were valuable and they had wasted a lot of potential silver by letting them go. But the captain insisted the cog was not built for steeds and so they took their saddlebags and left the stallions to roam the woods alone. Jagare slung his axe through his belt and started up the short steep stairs after Lyanna. They were both dazzled by the bright sunlight coming from the starboard side of the ship. The captain seemed slightly unnerved in the morning glow, but Jagare put it down to tiredness. Tommo was leaning against the railing with a grimace on his face and was caressing a rolled missive in his hand. When he saw them, he stowed the paper and his face quickly morphed into a nervous sort of smile.

"Apparently food came with the ship, lucky us." He produced two apples, a wedge of cheese and half a loaf of bread which they took and devoured greedily. He watched them while they ate. Not in a strange way, but in a quizzical way. He wanted to figure them out. Jagare couldn't blame him at all, he would have done the same. When they finished, Jagare tossed his apple core into the ocean and stared at the clear blue water. A soft wind was pushing them along with the waves churning beneath them. He didn't feel sick. While watching the water, he saw Tommo trying to phrase his first question out of the corner of his eye.

"You can ask anything you like" he mumbled. "We won't be offended."

"You both seem at home enough on a ship" he muttered.

"We sailed once or twice…back at home." Lyanna looked sheepish and guilty.

"At home huh? One of many mysteries I suppose I will have to unveil." He looked at them wryly his mouth curving into a small smile. "Ah, I can't do it, acting so moody and suspicious just isn't me." He paused for a moment then continued. "I'm gonna take a guess and say that you two are the runaways from Winterfell." Lyanna, for once had little to say and looked at Jagare with almost a pleading look. He knew what it meant. She didn't want to speak aloud about it.

"Aye…that's us." He gave a pained sort of smile back at Tommo. "May I present the Lady Lyanna Karstark, daughter of Lord Jeor Karstark, and recently the betrothed of Prince Jon Stark." Tommo looked down, still smiling.

"And I suppose, most of what I told you last night you already knew, right?" Jagare frowned at that. It wasn't entirely true.

"Half of it yes. But we've had very little news about the state of the North since we left Winterfell. Everywhere we went we either were in danger of being found or simply didn't have time to stop." He took a breath and continued. "We didn't know about Lyanna's betrothal to the prince, nor about Lord Karstarks banishment back to Karhold." Tommo thought about that for a moment, thinking it over.

"And your name?" Jagare paused for a second but spoke regardless. There was no point hiding.

"Jagare Snow. Bastard of Karhold. Bane of the North." He added a sad grin at the end of that title. "At your service, my lord." Tommo couldn't help but laugh.

"Not a lord…but…" his expression became confused, and he looked at him for a second before glancing at Lyanna.

"Jagare Sn- but wait that would mean that you two are…" His eyes widened before Lyanna jumped in and corrected him.

"Were not!" she quickly added. "Not brother and sister that is." He looked at them quizzically, his face more befuddled than ever.

"We learned from a trusted source that I am not in fact the bastard of Lord Karstark" he paused, the most painful memory of his fleeting meeting with his mother floating in his head. "My mother told me…but she didn't have a chance to tell me who my real father was. It was a good thing though…" He added. "Lord Karstark tried to have me killed just so he could rise in the Stark's favour. And he sold Lyanna off to a cruel monster just to pacify tensions. Not that great a father." Tommo still looked like he couldn't quite grasp it.

"But you were raised together…as siblings..." Jagare flinched slightly but ignored it.

"The heart wants what the heart wants. There was always something more between us. It was…meant to be." He smiled softly and took Lyanna's hand in his. She gazed at him sweetly and kissed his cheek, causing his heart to flutter. Eventually, Tommo's face relaxed a little and he laughed slightly.

"Jagare Snow. The bastard. Bit much if you ask me" he chuckled. "I've always found it strange that a mere babe managed to 'tear the North apart'. Did your swaddling clothes smell that bad?" Jagare grinned.

"No, I do believe that when I was born my first action was to flip off Lord Dustin, piss on Lord Karstark and then throw an axe at the young prince for good measure. It's the only possible way I could have insulted them all so badly." Then all three of them were laughing, laughing hard. It was funny after all. Jagare had thought to tell him the story about the murder of the dragons, and how he actually saved the North but thought against it for the moment. Tommo had had enough new information for now, any more might have blown his mind.

"My grandfather told me stories of you" Tommo murmured after a second, his mouth curled in a fond smile. "First thing he told us all, all the children of Oldcastle; we were never to blame you for your actions. Oldcastle always stood with you, my grandfather especially."

"Old man Locke" Lyanna breathed, turning to Jagare. "Do you remember Jagare...the old Lord that used to come and advise father. He was a-"

"Stark" Jagare murmured, to Tommo's nod. "Used to tell father all he could about how best to appease the Stark's."

"He always believed that you were free of blame, and that the justice of the Stark's was waning." Jagare nodded dully.

"He was right" Lyanna sighed. An hour later Jagare took over the ship's helm from the captain as he went to rest in the hold. Jagare had often taken trips down to the river mouth near Karhold, taking ships in the night to sail them until the early hours of the morning. One night he had been careless and was caught riding out of the castle. Lord Karstark had beaten him bloody and was given only the cruellest tasks for the next moon.

The midnight escapades had paid off though, Jagare felt as comfortable on the deck of a ship as he did with an axe in his hand. The old fisherman whose boat he had borrowed had taken great joy in teaching Jagare his knots and lessons about the winds and tides. He had also spent many a night spent with pages under the candle, researching the great seafarers of the known world. The Swan ships of the Summer Isles, the massive trade carracks of the Jade sea and the swift longships of the Ironborn. The greatest of all were the war galleys of the Valyrian Dragonlords. Large and strong enough that fully grown dragons could land upon the deck and the ship would hold its weight. The bows of the ship were designed with such integrity and strength that the great beasts could wrap their tails around the prow and pull the ships towards their destination when the wind grew low. The diagrams that Jagare had seen were roughly drawn and old. He longed to see one with his own eyes. One day…

He watched from the wheel as Tommo and Lyanna sparred on the deck. She had stolen a shortsword from one of the men that attacked them, and Tommo had offered to teach her how to use it. While Lord Karstark had been sympathetically fine with Lyanna practising archery, learning swordsmanship was far too much for his views on how he wanted his daughter to behave. Jagare had tried his best to teach her when he could, but he was much more accustomed to an axe. They had tried to recruit Ben, but their father had found them in the Godswood and put an end to it. Tommo was a fine swordsman though, and he watched him instructing her on how to hold the blade and the correct stances for fighting, something that she was remarkably quick at learning, and he was exceptionally good at teaching.

"A blade will give anyone a false sense of courage when they have it in their hands." His voice carried up from the main deck as he ran the flat of his sword along with his hand. "People think because they hold the power of life and death, they are their own sort of god." His hand shot out and before Lyanna could even gasp, her blade had been knocked out of her grasp.

"Ow! What was that for?" Jagare stifled a laugh. He had seen his father teaching Ben and Daryn how to fight, and he taught them in the same fashion.

"You think just because you have a sharp piece of metal in your hands you are invincible? Every green boy conscripted into their lord's army thinks the same!" Tommo had a smile on his face as he picked up her blade and handed it back. "You must start from the beginning. Learn the footwork, strengthen your muscles…and learn courage from the heart."

"Oh, she has courage all right" Jagare called down from the helm. "Took on three Ironborn with nothing but a bow." Tommo laughed.

"And where were you I wonder" he yelled back. Jagare scowled at him and looked at the horizon.

"In the headlock of one of the Ironborn, of course." He spoke dryly as the pair laughed.

"Well, you should have a head start on your battle sense then. The more you fight, the more experience you have. And experience can beat skill a hundred times over." Tommo struck out again, but this time Lyanna bought her blade up and struck it. It was a weak deflection and Tommo smacked her shoulder with the flat of the blade a split second later, but he looked impressed. "Good… now let's see your movements. For the next few hours, he ran her through precise drills: slash, slash, thrust. By the time they were finished, Lyanna looked half-dead and Tommo was bouncing with excitement.

"Never taught anyone before, hope I wasn't too hard on her!" He spoke leaning on Jagare's shoulder as Lyanna dumped a bucket of seawater over herself and collapsed on the deck.

"No, no" Jagare grinned. "I think you got it just right."

"She's good" he spoke quickly. "Better than most who've never picked up a blade. Good instincts."

"Aye, she was born to be a warrior." The rest of the journey was slightly rougher. A chill wind picked up later that day, and it bit against Jagare's cheeks like a dagger. He was greatly relieved when the captain came up from below, growling about old sails and fraying ropes.

"Grow yourself a beard laddie" he growled after seeing Jagare wiping his face with his leathers. He grinned a yellowed smile. "Keeps your cheeks warm." Jagare chuckled and scratched his stubbled face. It wasn't a bad idea.

"How long have you been sailing this route?" he called back, the wind picking up and starting to drown his voice. The horizon looked blacker than a crow's back. But the old man gripped the wheel tight, his eyes alive with sparkling anticipation.

"Longer than the three of your lives combined son. I was born at sea, one day I'll die at sea." He glanced at Jagare's terrified face and snorted a laugh. "But that day is not today lad, I got a few more trips in me!" The storm picked up even further and blew them off course. Now there were two days away. And those next two days were horrible. The captain and Jagare had their sea legs, and although Lyanna and Tommo were not strangers to ships, both of them were spilling their guts over the side as the wind howled and wailed. Waves crashed against the hull; the wood creaked under the strain of the powerful beast that was the sea. But the planks held, and the ship sailed on. The captain was screaming from the top of the deck, yelling excitedly at the ocean. Phrases such as "COME ON, YOU OLD CUNT" and "IT'S BEEN SIXTY YEARS AND YOU HAVENT KILLED ME YA FUCKER". Needless to say, it was not particularly reassuring for the three of them, who all very much wanted to survive.

"I do wish" muttered Lyanna as Jagare held her hair back as she vomited into a barrel. "That if there is a god of seas out there someone" she paused to throw her head back into the barrel. "He would stop fucking antagonizing it!" she eventually croaked, her voice muffled. Tommo wasn't doing that much better himself, his usually cheery complexion was quite pale and green, and he moaned and groaned with every movement of the waves.

"It could be worse; another captain might have turned us around. Seems to me that he'll do whatever he can to reach that island even if it kills him."

"Oh, please don't say that" Tommo moaned. "The fucking sea god will hear you." Eventually, after what felt like days, a laugh echoed from above them.

"Get yer heads up here yer landlubbers, Bear Islands in view." Although Jagare had been relatively unaffected by the swish and swirl of the choppy waves, his stomach was lurching unpleasantly, and he wanted nothing more than to step onto solid land. He helped Tommo and Lyanna up the steep stairs, and they all gulped in the fresh air. Looking behind the stern of the boat, Jagare could see a great mass of grey storm clouds, tendrils of rain snaking down the storm and a dark speck in the distance showed him the mainland.

"It's okay lad, that's what we've just been through" the captains voice echoed from behind him. "Should be heading towards the mainland now. Deepwood Motte's in for a rough night."

"Let's hope it sinks all the ships it can then" he spoke dryly. The old man glanced at him with a furtive look. He may have asked no questions, but Jagare was sure he was interested at the very least. But right then, he wanted nothing more than to get ashore and find a place to sleep that didn't rock in the night. They disembarked about half a day's walk from the town below Mormont Keep according to the captain, who immediately turned his boat around and headed back to the mainland. Jagare had shaken his hand and tried to pay him another silver for the storm, but the old man had shaken his head and pressed it back into his hand.

"I don't know your story lad, but you're running from something." Jagare nodded his head sluggishly.

"Aye… it's big."

"I'm sure" he grumbled. But his gaze was kind and comforting, and his eyes held years of wisdom. "Look boy, you can run as long as you like, but eventually it catches up to you. Better to turn and face it before you get too tired running, otherwise you'll have no strength left to fight it when it comes." The old man nodded at him with a smile, ignoring Jagare's confused expression, before heading back to his ship. As the sails fluttered into the distance, Jagare started to become convinced there was more to the old sailor than met the eye. But as to what it was…

"Oi, Jagare," shouted Tommo. "If it's all right by you, I'd rather not see that bloody sea again for as long as possible!"

"Alright, coming!" he called back to the pair of them, who stood on a nearby hill waiting expectantly. Climbing up to them, his eyes focused on their next destination. Bear Island was shaped like a rough horseshoe, with the gap emptying into the southern part of the Island, forming a wide bay. Most ships would have sailed into the gullet of the island, to the docks of the small town. There they would have traded with all the small Northern island had to offer; pelts, furs, lumber, and iron.

Bear Island itself was rich in tall pine trees, rocky hills, outcrops, and gushing shallow rivers and waterfalls. A soft, thin layer of snow covered the ground they walked on, their boots padding merrily through the woods. The trio walked in comfortable silence for the majority of the walk, taking in the scenery. Jagare had to admit, even though they were in the den of their enemies, its beauty was breathtaking. He had often read about the most so-called beautiful places in Westeros. The mountain castle of the Eyrie and the virtual palace of Highgarden often came into consideration. The Feast Fires peninsula on the west coast and the Dornish Marches in a summer sunset were also mentioned, but there was a harsh, wild beauty about the Island that nothing else could compete with. He looked sideways at the figure pacing along beside him, gazing in silent awe at their surroundings. He smiled to himself. 'Wild harsh beauty'.

"Lovely isn't it." Came the jarring voice from in front of them. Tommo's slightly larger frame proved unimpactful on his swift and graceful movements up the slopes. "But can I ask what we're going to do when we get there? I mean, if I'm right in saying, you two aren't particularly loved over here. I don't think we should be planning on staying long. The island isn't exactly massive after all." Jagare and Lyanna gave each other quick, quizzical looks?

"We?" Jagare asked. Tommo nodded eagerly. Jagare was about to argue, but Lyanna got there first.

"Tommo listen, it's not fair for you to be swept up through what is our problem." She took a few paces forward and put her hand on his arm. "You can go back to the mainland and continue your journey safely. The Starks have no reason to target you yet, but if you're recognised…you don't want half the North after you and a bounty on your head. We've put you in as much danger as it is already." Tommo laughed his signature laugh and shook his head.

"You really think I'm backing out of this now? No, not a chance. Don't get me wrong, it's not all because of you two." His gaze drifted distantly and unfocused. "The North isn't the place it once was. Where honour, integrity and brotherhood were strong in our lands. Now people are mistrustful and sly. It's not the place I grew up to love." He let out a sigh "Besides, I want to see other places, remember. I can only guess we will be sailing south from here. Seaguard, Lannisport, Oldtown! That's what I want to see." He grinned "You guys couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"We don't want to get rid of you-"

"OH, and also…" he scratched his neck sheepishly. "I may have told those Forrester riders my name, remember. Chances are they already know I'm with you. So, you know, I can't go back." Jagare felt a large pang of guilt at this statement. It was true. Painfully true. Tommo was now forever an outlaw from the North.

"But…but" Lyanna looked at him almost pleadingly, but Jagare simply shrugged his head.

"He's his own man Lya, if he wants to join us, I would not be opposed to his company." He raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"

"Of course not!" she replied hotly. "It's only that-"

"AHH, there it is" called Tommo, who was pointing over the ridge to a smoky and snow-covered wooden settlement underneath a large outcrop of rock that held the timber keep of the Mormonts. As Lyanna turned to look, he flashed Jagare a quick but meaningful smile. Jagare returned it gratefully. "So, back to my original question. What's the plan?" He looked over at Jagare, and he felt Lyanna's gaze on his neck as well as he strode forward to the ledge. He spoke whilst looking over the town.

"They are looking for me and Lyanna, and by now everyone on the island will know what we look like." He remembered the black cloud of death he spied drifting to the mainland, and he smirked slightly. "They won't be searching for us here though, that storm will put them at ease I think. But we can't risk showing our faces in case we're recognised accidentally. However, I don't think Tommo will have been identified just yet, and they certainly won't know him by appearance. He can do our ship finding." Tommo nodded excitedly and Jagare nodded back. "Lyanna and I shall stay on the outskirts of the woods and wait for you." Lyanna rolled her eyes but did not argue. Jagare thought for a moment more, his brain mulling over a plan he had been thinking of whilst on the ship here. Relying on a captain was tacky and unreliable, prone to stupid decisions and if he was being honest, tough labour. He wouldn't put control of them onto someone else ever again, which meant… "Tommo, I need you to go a bit further with your search. We are in need of a specific ship." Tommo was practically bouncing with excitement and nodded his head readily.

"Sure! What do you need Jaggy?" Lyanna poorly stifled a laugh and Jagare shot her a death glare.

"You can start by never calling me that again." Tommo grinned mischievously. "But your task is this. I need you to find a ship with the worst reputed captain there is." Tommo stopped bouncing and looked at him curiously.

"Come again?" He asked.

"You heard me" Jagare replied, a small grin on his face. "The worst one. And by that, I don't mean one who has never seen a ship, but one who is hated by his crew and passengers alike. Someone really despised by his inferiors. Someone who puts people on the night shift and takes away their rations over the smallest thing. Someone who spends the entire journey fucking and drinking in his cabin. I'm sure you can find the type." The plan had come to Jagare when he saw the old captain sailing off back to Deepwoode Motte and thought how he hoped the man would never get stifled out of a deal. He was a good man after all. But then he realised he would pity anyone who tried to screw over a tough old sailor such as him. The thought of them being tied up in their sleep and chucked overboard came to mind.

"Jagare, have you gone mad?" Lyanna chuckled

"No…It's a plan." Tommo scratched his head incredulously but nodded.

"Whatever you say I suppose. Let's get moving." By the time they had reached the outskirts of the port village, the sun was about to start its descent behind the tallest of pine trees. They agreed on a base camp, and Tommo set off into the village, leaving the two behind. They collected firewood for a while, piling it up in the clearing for a fire they would light later. Then they spent a while simply sitting and laughing quietly, seeing who could throw pinecones closest to the base of a wide oak tree. Eventually, when the top of the sun had just started to dip between the trees, they lay down staring at the canopy.

"It's strange isn't it," Lyanna spoke quietly. They were laying with their heads touching and their bodies stretched in opposite directions.

"What is?" Jagare nuzzled his head closer to hers and she sighed sweetly.

"That we're finally here, you know?" He felt her head move, gazing up at the stars. "We're free. No bounds. When we get on this ship and are past the Neck… We'll be able to live our own lives. Not worrying about knives in the dark, or people forcing us into things." She turned her head again and smiled at him. "And best of all, I'm sharing it with you." Jagare grinned and felt that warmth flowing through him.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." For the first time in his life, he felt unrestrained, powerful…and loved. They moved in to kiss each other when a snap in the woods made their heads perk up. Both swiftly sprang into a crouching position, making sure to make as little noise as possible. Jagare put a finger to his lips whilst feeling with his other hand for his axe. A loud figure seemed to be coming towards them, from the direction of the town. At first, Jagare thought it might be Tommo, but he was too smart to be making that much noise. His next thought was a bear, making his blood run cold; but then a voice sounded. Male. Slightly older than them, and had a heavier Northern accent. But his tone was reedy and thin, like a boy approaching manhood. They listened carefully to make out his words.

"Stupid brother…stupid father…do they think that ships build themselves!?" They looked at each other querulously while the voice grew louder. "Do they think those swords made themselves…no no no, they were made by knowledge. Research. By books!" He was nearly shouting now and had almost entered their clearing. Lyanna tapped him and pointed towards a large, gnarled tree, its roots creating a perfect spot to hide. He nodded and they swiftly and silently crept towards the barked cover. Taking cover behind the roots, the man bumbled into the clearing, huffing with exhaustion.

"Do they ever think…that perhaps my brains might be useful to them?" He let out another long sigh and opened what sounded like a large book, turning the pages furiously. "Well, they cannot stop me from reading here. Ah, this looks good. Just need the candle…" Jagare heard the man turn towards them and thought fast. Grabbing a stone from the ground, he pressed it into Lyanna's hands and gave her a look that she seemed to understand. Holding up three fingers, and then counting them down, she threw the rock. It bounced off one of the trees and he heard the man turn with an odd whimper. In a flash, Jagare leapt out from the spot and charged at their intruder.

The man was large, larger than most. So wrapped in furs and wools he looked like some sort of sheep. He had flat, greasy, light brown hair and large brown eyes. His frame was rotund, yet his body looked strong enough. Too strong for Jagare to let him stand. Moving like lightning, he swung the flat of his axe into the man's shin, causing him to stumble and to Jagare's surprise, shriek in pain. Not wasting a moment, he planted a boot onto the side of his knee, and he went down. Lyanna darted out from behind the tree and pulled out the knife. She slid beside him and put the knife at his throat.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here!" she hissed fiercely, pressing the knife slightly closer to his skin. To even more of his amazement, the man started sobbing quite profusely and whimpering like an injured dog. He was very…un-Northern. Lyanna looked at him confused and tried again.

"Who are you? Tell us!" After a further wail of terror, Jagare decided to provide a slightly different approach. Lifting her blade away from his throat, he crouched down next to him.

"We won't hurt you if you tell us what we want to know" he spoke calmly. The sobs started to recede and so he stood up and helped Lyanna up to standing. A few moments later, sniffing loudly, the man pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"M-m-my name is W-wen-d-dal Mormont. I c-come here to r-read sometimes." Jagare and Lyanna looked at each other in amazement. A Mormont? Sobbing and crying on a dirty floor…with a book! This was a very uncommon sight.

"Well…" Lyanna spoke, almost trying to contain a giggle. "That answers a few questions I suppose."

"Yes, and it also creates a few more" growled Jagare. "A Mormont weeping in the dirt? Doesn't seem very bear-like of you." Wendel shook his head, an angry look on his face.

"I-I'm not brave, no. Not like my father, or my brother...or even my sister for that matter." Jagare chuckled dryly, and Lyanna shuddered.

"Yeah, your sisters a right piece of fucking work," Lyanna muttered. He whipped around to glare at her, but she only shrugged. "Something tells me he won't tell."

"Wha-what?" Wendel stuttered; looking confused. Jagare sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"I happened to meet your brother at Winterfell" Jagare spoke quietly, remembering the fight. "…tell me, does he have a scar on his left leg, above his knee?" Wendel's eyes opened in surprise.

"Yes, he does. How did you know that?" Jagare sheathed his axe and offered his arm to the man. He took it and almost pulled Jagare down, but he wrenched upwards and Wendel came up from the floor.

"Because I'm the one who gave it to him. I'm the one who has done a lot of things." He smirked at the man, who seemed to finally realise what was going on. His eyes drifted to Lyanna whose long brown hair was hanging loose down her head. Her expression was still strong and fierce, and he saw Wendel's eyes open even wider.

"Y-you're the runaways, aren't you? The one's father talked about." He pointed at Lyanna. "Lyanna Karstark, Lord Jeor's daughter. The princes betrothed." They both winced at that. He then turned to Jagare, his mouth agape. "So, you must be…

"Aye," he grimaced.

"Jagare Snow, Lord Jeor's bast-"

"I may be a bastard, but Lord Karstarks bastard I am not" he interjected with a twinge of annoyance.

"Aye, his mother is Eleanor Dustin though" Lyanna quickly interjected, hoping to not have another Tommo situation. But Wendel seemed to understand almost immediately and nodded.

"I can see that, we visited Barrowtown a couple of years ago." He looked at them quizzically. "But what are you doing here? You'll be sent back to Winterfell in irons if you were to be caught." Jagare was about to answer before the man answered his own question. "You're getting a ship, aren't you? To go south!"

"Yes, we are" spoke Lyanna, who glanced around the clearing impatiently, clearly wanting Tommo to hurry up and get back. Jagare had to agree. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with the man standing before them. He must have been around two and twenty, yet he acted like a boy who had barely come of age. Tommo seemed more up to the world than he did.

"Listen, your right. We do not want to be found…so if you could keep our presence here quiet…It would be appreciated." Wendel's look hardened.

"Okay…I will. On one condition." Jagare looked around annoyed, prepared to remind him that he was the one with the axe. But Lyanna spoke loudly and clearly.

"No. Not happening." Wendel raised his eyebrow and glared at her.

"You of all people, you're really going to tell me no? My father told me about the marriage proposal. I have nothing against the two of you, I even felt sorry for you. So you can't fault me for wanting the same thing." Jagare looked between the two of them surprised, was he missing something?

"I'm sorry do you two know each other or something?" he remarked querulously. Lyanna shook her head.

"No, but I know those who have been forced into a life they don't want by their father." She looked at Jagare and smiled. "All in the eyes." He chuckled slightly and gazed at Wendel for a few seconds.

"So you want to join us." He moved around the man, who stared at him hard as if trying to intimidate him. Jagare snorted. "We already have one companion. He's good company and handy with a blade…what can you offer?" He didn't say it with sarcasm but with a general interest. Wendel dropped his gaze.

"I-I may not be able to fight that well, but I'm smart. I studied all I could whilst on Bear Island. Granted that wasn't much, but mostly about the academic sides of war, travelling and sailing. W-was the only thing my father allowed me to study." He looked back up hopefully. "I'm also a good seaman. N-not pulling ropes or anything, but charting and navigating. Reading the winds and stars, plotting courses, and dealing at ports; my father assigned me to deal with the tariffs on the docks. I'm really good with numbers. I-In fact I've tripled our profits in the last year alone!" It all came out in one big blurt, and although Lyanna started shaking his head, Jagare was intrigued.

"I'm sorry Wendel, but it would be too dangerous" Lyanna spoke sympathetically. "If anyone found out you'd even been talking to us about this, you would have a price on you. Mormont or not." Lyanna smiled sadly at him, but Wendel shook his head hard.

"I don't care! Fathers always saying I should take risks, embrace danger…I think he meant to go hunting in the woods with the bears, but this is basically the same!" Lyanna opened her mouth to speak again, but Jagare interrupted her.

"Lya, he's in the same position we were. We would be hypocrites to deny him such if he chooses." Lyanna scowled at him.

"And what happens when we get into a fight, and one of us has to protect him? He's a liability!"

"I'm not totally incompetent" Wendel piped up. "I can swing a mace alright…just don't really want to." His nervous expression turned serious. "I can handle myself." Jagare nodded and looked at Lyanna.

"We let Tommo join, why not him?" Lyanna thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Very well. I look forward to getting to know you, Wendel Mormont." She smiled at him warmly."

"Very well then, Wendel Mormont, you may join our compa-" he was interrupted by a shout that shook him to his core.

"WENDEL. WENDEL, ARE YOU OUT HERE?" Wendel went white.

"It's my brother" he squeaked in a pitch more associated with a maiden in distress. Jagare's eyes widened and then hardened, unsheathing his axe and readying himself. Lyanna went over to their packs, pulling out the bow and three arrows. Stabbing two in the ground she nocked the third and pointed it at the space where the voice was coming from. Jagare held up his hand to stop her and nodded at Wendel. His eyes went wider, but he called back into the darkness.

"W-what do you want Jorah." An angry grunt came from the shrubs, and a large man came traipsing through the brambles.

"You making me climb all the way up here, interrupting my meal-" both his voice and body froze when he gazed upon the scene. His small beady eyes went from Wendel to Jagare to Lyanna, and no one in the clearing moved, the only sound coming from the wind and the taut of Lyanna's bowstring. Then, Jorah's face curled into a cruel sneer.

"Well, well. The bastard creeps into our open arms. You must be incredibly brave...or just a fool." He grinned. "You certainly did put Willem down a peg though, beating him in that duel. Have to thank you for that, his ego was going unmatched. But as for me…well you got me by surprise. Not very honourable, not that I expect much from a bastard of course." Jorah rubbed his leg as Jagare's hand tightened on his axe, Lyanna pulling the bowstring back a little more. "You got me good though, I'll give you that. Nice clean cut, couldn't stand for a week on my own. " Lyanna took a step forward.

"I'd recommend you back off now, and forget you saw us." Jorah grinned and reached over his back, pulling out a heavy mace, with wickedly sharp blades attached to a solid club.

"Oh, but you know I can't do that honey." Jagare felt his fists tighten at those words, and pulled out his axe, pointing it at Jorah.

"We outnumber you. One of us has a bow, and one has beaten you before." Jorah nodded solemnly, then shrugged.

"That's true, but one of you is a heavy liability." He darted forwards and grabbed Wendel by the neck and wrenched him in front of the bow. Lyanna let an arrow fly at his movement, but Jagare knocked the bow upwards at the last moment, causing the arrow to stick in the tree just above Wendel's head.

"Ah ah" spoke Jorah mockingly, his strong arms tight around his brother's throat, one of the blades of the mace resting on his leg. "You wouldn't attack an unarmed coward now would you." Jagare's face had gone pale, but he tried to speak with confidence.

"And you wouldn't kill your brother. You wouldn't be a kinslayer." Jorah laughed mockingly.

"Oh please, no Weirwood trees to judge me around here bastard. For all the North would know, this lump of pig shit got eaten by a bear. Rather believable don't you think?

"Father-" Wendel croaked, but he was quickly cut off.

"Father would most likely thank me for getting rid of you" he snarled. "You insult me, our father, the Mormont name...you insult mother's memory." On that, Wendel's face grew taught with rage. He smacked his head backwards and smashed his brother's nose. Jorah grunted in pain and let go, stumbling back. But Wendel lost his footing and tripped, landing in a heap in front of his rising brother. Jorah's face was red and angry now.

"You little SHIT" he roared as he rose the mace, but it never fell. A metal clang rang through the clearing, and Jorah's eyes slid out of focus, and he fell forward, narrowly missing Wendel. Behind him, with a sword raised and a bored expression on his face, was Tommo Locke. Jagare let out a loud sigh of relief and Lyanna laughed deliriously. Wendel went to check on his unconscious brother and proclaimed him suitably knocked out.

"Well, he was awfully loud and very boring" Tommo droned with a yawn. "Seemed better to us all if he became unconscious." Lyanna hugged him with a giggle.

"Never been better to see you Tommo" Jagare smiled at him, grasping his shoulder. "That's twice you've saved us now." Tommo waved his hand and grinned.

"Ah, you'll get me back eventually, I'm sure. Until then, it is my pleasure." Wendel had picked up his brother's mace and looked at it.

"Take it" spoke Lyanna, who was smiling at him. "If you take it, you can join us." Tommo looked around and cocked his head.

"Oh, new companion, is it?" He bounded forward and clasped Wendel's hand. "Tommo. Tommo Locke. Good to have you aboard" He stepped back and looked thoughtful. "Wendel Mormont I'm guessing, heard some things about you on the docks." Jagare shared a look with Lyanna and Wendel looked down miserable.

"All bad I'm sure, cowardice and fat," he muttered quietly. Tommo smirked and clasped him on the shoulder.

"Not exactly. I heard that you were a sorcerer with numbers and stopped every merchant who docked from scamming Bear Island of their trade. And I didn't just hear that here, back at Oldcastle as well." He looked over at Jagare. "His name would do us a great deal down at the docks. And we'll need him if we ever get our own ship." He grinned knowingly at Jagare. He had figured it out then.

"Yes, speaking of ships" Jagare interjected, feeling amused. "What did you manage to find?" Tommo's grin widened.

"I found the perfect captain for you. Five foiled mutinies, ten abandoning of ships and even a bloody suicide." Lyanna jammed the arrows back into the sheath and frowned at him.

"Can you please explain what this crazy plan of yours is?" Jagare shared a smirk with Tommo and then turned to Lyanna and Wendel, who both looked expectant.

"Ever done a mutiny before?"

And finally, we have left the North. Feel free to comment!

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