Bear Keep

314 AC

The sound of creaking iron hinges filled the great hall.

Duncan Mormont felt his heart pounding against the ribs in his chest as he stepped inside. It had all been easy up until now. But here… here was where he'd face the dragon.

At the far end of the long hall made of gray-blue stone, on the other end of the thick dark green carpet, was the tall pinewood throne. Behind it were two identical green and brown tapestries depicting the House Mormont coat-of-arms; a black bear over a green wood. On the right side of the hall was a wide stone hearth which looked to have been recently tended to. On each of the stone pillars in the hall were large ornate torch sconces made of black iron that blazed with orange light, illuminating each corner and crevice of the wide room.

His father sat on his throne. At his side stood Torwyn, the aging Maester of Bear Keep. They'd been speaking about something just moments before Duncan had opened the door. Now they both stopped and glanced in his direction as he made his way over to them.

Duncan kept up with his forward stride. His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. He instinctively scanned his surroundings, taking note of the fact that there wasn't even a single guardsman present. Only his father, his mother, Thalia, and Torwyn were there.

As Duncan approached, he saw Torwyn's lips curl slightly into a weak smile. One that wanted to express a sort of grandfatherly sympathy, but couldn't. It died just as soon as it appeared.

It was then that Duncan looked at his father. And what he saw terrified him.

Lord Starag Mormont was always cold when he was angry. Distant, severe, and righteous.

Only one other time had Duncan seen his father like this. Years ago, just after they'd received word of his grandfather's death. His father would only wear grim half-smiles then, likely not wanting to take out his anger on the rest of his family. But this… this was different.

He stopped about ten feet before the great pinewood chair. His mother left him with a small press on his arm and went to his father's side. Thalia on the other hand stood next to Torwyn, choosing to keep her gaze directed at the floor.

And Duncan simply stared into that lone lightning-blue eye that belonged to his father. It was narrowed slightly, and neutral. A single word came to Duncan's mind then for what he saw: disappointment.

Suddenly, Duncan felt really bad about everything-about letting his father down, letting his family down, letting the Starks down, letting himself down. The look his father had given him was the final accusation. You've brought shame on the family. You're a disgrace. How could you do this to us? To me? You had so much potential and now you've squandered it.

After what seemed like forever, those thin lips parted. "Do you have any earthly idea of what you've done?"

Duncan forced his blood to cool. He held his head high. "I can guess, Father. This is about the Tallharts."

His father said, "Correct." inclining his head as if he were inspecting a speck of dust. "Why?"

Why indeed.

Why had this all happened? Why insult the Tallharts after sharing their food and wine? Why snub the Starks after everything they'd done for his family? Why destroy the relationships and bonds his father had worked so hard to cultivate over the years? Why take Bellanora Tallhart as a lover? Why break Lyarra's heart?

Duncan felt his resolve begin to crumble. No suitable answer came to his aid.

"Well? I'm waiting, boy." His father said sharply, bringing him back to reality. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

There wasn't.

What had it been with the Tallhart girl? The stolen glances at the dinner table, the contact made the next morning in the stables. The cautious sniffing of each other for a few days after, the small 'innocent' compliments given while in the company of others, the discovery that they liked each other. Then, the next day they would meet early in the morning and go out for a ride with just the one horse. The adrenaline, the rush of excitement in them both, the tight-fitting riding clothes she was wearing, the way her hair had been parted, and when she wrapped her arms tight around his waist to keep seated, he knew it was over. They would return just before the sun began to rise, with only a few hours before breakfast. The short walk back to her room, and then…

He remembered where he stood. The story in his mind had been cut to ribbons.

His father spoke up then. "Vanity." He said plainly. "That is how I see it." Very slowly, Lord Mormont rose from his seat and stood to his full towering height. Almost a full head taller than Duncan himself.

Lord Mormont said, "I trusted you with a simple, yet important task: to establish relations with Ser Helman, to gain his support and confidence, not to seduce his daughter and put a child in her. If it had just been some tavern wench or a serving girl, I wouldn't have cared. Nobody would've cared. But instead…" He looked down at Duncan as if he were scolding a dog. "You go ahead and insult a prominent lord who welcomed you into his home in good faith. You eat his food and drink his wine. Then you fuck his daughter under his own roof just because she batted her eyes at you, a girl who was soon to marry into the Karstarks. A girl whose father might have helped us improve the rather meager reputation we carry in the North."

Duncan felt the hot blood flushing under his face. "Father, it's not as if the Tallharts are that important."

"On the contrary," His father's voice had somehow grown colder. "They are an old and respectable family. Not as powerful as us, yet their word carries weight. And they are our neighbors."

"But we don't need them anyway! We'll be fine, Father. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Worst that could happen?" His father gave a mirthless laugh. "You don't understand, do you?"

Duncan was practically yanked forward as his father closed the distance between them, gripping him tight around the collar, and pulling him close as easily as he would lift a mug of ale. "You don't humiliate the royal family, boy!" His father growled as their faces were only inches apart. "Every lord in the Seven fucking Kingdoms are watching the Starks like hawks! They're looking for any signs of weakness, to probe and scrape and take what they bloody well can. They're the only reason we haven't been exiled to the South like the Manderlys were from the Reach. As the future Head of our House, you should know that."

"Look, fathe-"

"What do you think this fucking scandal will do for them? What will it do for us?" His father pushed him away. "Do you expect the Lords' Paramount to ignore you publicly insulting the Starks?"

Duncan didn't know what to say. None of the answers flooding into his mind were good. They'll want to take advantage, thinking the Starks are weak.

That you and your family are throwing themselves around like the Targaryens once did.

More discord, more chaos.

Unfulfilled potential. Progress undone.

Your family. Dead.

Just like the Targaryens.

Inside, he was boiling. Being dressed down before his mother and his sister like this… it only served to fuel the rage that was building within. "But-"

"Have you forgotten everything I taught you, boy? Were you even thinking of what might happen before you fucked the Tallhart girl? Before you openly slighted the Starks?" His father now pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Those are not the actions of a Lord, but of a spoiled brat."

"Father, they can't do anything to us! The old alliances are still in place. You're blowing this out of-"

Lord Mormont glared harshly at him. "Out of proportion? I think not. That still does not give you the right to treat our fellow bannermen as you like." He stepped closer. "We are not the Dragonlords, boy! Our actions have consequences just as any other. You've brought about this embarrassment on the family, you've endangered the lives of your own people with your recklessness, and now you've offended the Starks, the ones who protected us." His father said calmly. "What's your plan to fix all of this, boy? Tell me."

Duncan simply couldn't stand it all anymore. He gave into the anger he'd kept at bay for so long. "Nothing, Father! Because if they decide they want blood, we'll give it to them! That along with dragonfire!"

Not even a second after his outburst, he instantly regretted everything he said.

His father stood there, completely still, just watching him with that impassive lightning-blue eye. His mother put her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening out of shock. Torwyn tensed up, and Thalia shot him a worried, pleading look.

A pin could drop by the entrance to the great hall, and it would've been heard by all those present.

Lord Starag Mormont said nothing. He looked to the floor with a downcast gaze, turning his back to Duncan, and stared off into the blazing hearth.

Duncan wished to the Old Gods that he could just take it back. But he knew full well that the damage had been done. Shit…

A few silent moments followed as his father looked into the crackling fire. His eye was covered by the shadows, making him completely unreadable.

"I should have seen it." Lord Mormont said, "I was a fool… to think you were capable, to think you were responsible… to think you were ready."

That had been the biggest punch to the gut. Duncan tried to find something, anything to say that would make it better.

But nothing came.

His mother rushed to his father's side then. "My Love-"

"Silence, woman!"

His mother stopped and froze where she stood, looking as if she'd been slapped. She gazed dutifully down at the floor.

Lord Mormont looked to him then. "Duncan, of House Mormont…" He breathed out with an exhausted sigh. "You have betrayed the command of your Lord Father. Through your pride and vanity, you have openly endangered the lives of your people, and have brought disgrace upon your own family."

Duncan's prior feelings of shame had amplified a hundredfold. I didn't mean it…

He was not prepared for what came next. His father immediately strode towards him, his face was only a mask of cold fury.

Lord Mormont shoved him back to the entryway, "You are ungrateful for the life and luxuries you've been given!"

You are unworthy of these lands!" His father closed the gap and tore harshly at Duncan's fine coat. With freakish strength, he managed to completely tear off the fabric covering Duncan's left arm, leaving it bare. "Unworthy of your titles!"

Before he knew it, Duncan had been nearly pushed back against the twin doors to the great hall when his father held him only by his collar. "You are unworthy…" He said with such certainty and sincerity that Duncan felt his heart drop. "...of the family you have betrayed."

A brief moment allowed Duncan a glimpse into his father's eye. What he saw was a flurry of different emotions. Disappointment, contempt, anger…

Sorrow.

His father's eye suddenly blazed with rage once more. He gripped Duncan by the arm and hauled him outside.

The fresh kiss of cold morning air hit him then. It was paired along with the scorching pain he now felt in his left arm as his father dragged him into the main courtyard. Duncan tried to fight his father's grip, attempting to pull in the opposite direction back towards the keep, but was of no use. It was like fighting a storm. There was nothing to do.

The doors fluttered open again behind them. His mother and his sister ran out after them. Torwyn shuffled close behind as well. "My lord!" The old man called. "Please, you don't have to do this!"

Do what? Asked one half of Duncan's mind. He didn't bother to ponder what was happening. He just wanted the pain in his arm to stop. His father's grip was cast iron.

His father ignored Torwyn and merely looked to the guardsmen standing at the far end of the yard by the gatehouse. "Open the gate!" He ordered. The man quickly complied. The White Gate shuddered thunderously and began to rise.

Duncan tugged and pulled and heaved with all his might. He only managed to slow his father's advance on the gate. And to increase the searing sensation around his biceps.

His mother couldn't contain herself anymore. "My love, please! Don't do this!"

Even Thalia tried. "Father stop! He didn't mean it!"

They were ignored.

Even as Duncan continued to fruitlessly wrench his arm out of his father's grip, he heard the older man begin to speak. Not to anyone else, but to himself. He heard it loud and clear. "In the name of my father… and his father before…" He seemed to say as if it were some sort of prayer.

They were on the opposite side of the courtyard by now. Barely less than five yards from the mouth of the open gate. As they neared the threshold, Duncan felt yet another calloused hand grip the back of his coat and his shirt. He felt his feet leave the ground as he was picked up and thrown out the other side of the gate.

He crashed into the dirt path hard, rolling several times in an attempt to lessen the impact. It made little difference. The pain in his arm and shoulders increased tenfold, wet dirt and muddy slush stuck to his face, and clothes, and matted into his hair. The air in his chest suddenly left him, leaving him winded and wheezing.

"Close it shut!" Was what he heard next. He looked to the mouth of the gate. His mother and sister in the courtyard. His father stood firm just beyond the line of white teeth like a sentinel.

Some sort of primal fear struck him then as he realized what was happening. No… no, no, no, no, no!

Duncan scrambled to his feet. When he tried to get back inside the gate, his father kicked him hard in the chest, sending him backward. He slipped on some of the icy slush that was stuck to the ground and fell back-first into the mud.

A fresh blast of pain shot into his ribs and backside. He ignored it as best he could and tried to stand again. But by the time he got on one knee, it was too late. The White Gate closed shut with a reverberating boom!

"From this day forth, I, Lord Starag Mormont, cast you out." His father spat. "You do not deserve to bear the Mormont name, and so, you are on your own, boy. You won't find shelter here, not in Westhelm, not even on the fucking Wall. Go waste your life chasing strumpets and base pleasure, but I won't have a useless degenerate bring ruin to the family I've fought and bled for. When you decide you want to earn forgiveness for what you've done, for insulting your liege lord, you can start by repaying the debt you owe to him and his family. You will find Robb Stark a gift worthy of the Kings of Winter, or you will die alone and unwanted. The choice is yours."

And with that, his father turned his back on him, walking away and leaving Duncan on his own out in the cold.


Author's Note:

Guest: I don't know if you're the same guy who recently left reviews on The Last Tour, but if you are, you're the man.

You've been very civil regarding your critiques, and it's appreciated. Sometimes I look back on those stories and think, "Why in the hell did I decide to do that?" with a justified face-palm.

Though I'm sure all writers end up thinking that, too. It's just part of the job.

Cheers mate, see you around 💪🔥