Torrhen's Square
314 AC - Six Moons Earlier
It was the distant call of the snow shrikes that woke him.
Outside the circular foggy glass windows of Duncan Mormont's room was the expansive keep of Torrhen's Square. With stone walls rising thirty feet high and square towers at each corner, it was considered one of the strongest keeps in the North.
Beyond the stone walls was Lakeside, a large town which had mainly sustained itself through trade and by fishing from the nearby lake, which when followed, would eventually lead out to the Sunset Sea. This route also allowed for ships, however rare a sight they were, to land at the small harbor. Naturally, fishing wasn't the only source of food for the people of Lakeside. The Wolfswood was expansive enough to extend as far south as Torrhen's Square, and it was ripe with game, especially in the winter.
In the last decade, Torrhen's Square had experienced a sharp rise in growth. As trade grew in the North, so did its population. New homes were built, shops established, gold and silver traded hands, foreign goods were brought from across the Narrow Sea, and the people prospered. And while most were wise enough to know that it could all come to an end, they were simply content to enjoy what they had now.
The square was home to House Tallhart, one of the principal families sworn to House Stark of Winterfell, and among the oldest and most respected houses in the North. And it was a family that had, previously, maintained tenuous relations with House Mormont of Bear Island.
Back inside the rather spacious room afforded to Duncan Mormont, the young man in question had since risen up out of his bed, and looked among the cold stone floor for his trousers. He quickly found them and slipped them on.
After putting on his leather boots and finding a good shirt, he took one last glance out the window, catching a glimpse of the rising sun in the east. Duncan smiled at the sight of it, feeling its warmth graze his skin.
Deciding only a moment was enough, he turned around and found the tall ironwood door. It was time to train, of course.
Duncan, thoughtful of the other inhabitants of the floor he was on, had gently opened his door and closed it shut behind him. Then he simply strode towards the stairs. As he passed by two servant girls who had just finished tidying one of the other rooms, he noticed their looks of ardent anticipation in his direction. They hoped that the charming and dashing young lord would stop and pay them attention. Yet Duncan hadn't the time for that, so he simply gave them both a wink and proceeded down the stairs.
He smirked to himself as he heard them both giggling delightedly as he went. Duncan marched down each step until he reached the entry hall.
It was a rectangular-shaped room made largely of stone, with ironwood beams. There were two separate stairwells opposite of one another on each side of the hall, with several extra wooden doors along the walls leading to the servants' quarters and the kitchens. Then there was the entrance to the main hall, which was where Ser Helman Tallhart, the Master of Torrhen's Square would hold court, and where meals and feasts were held.
Opposite of the main hall was the large wooden gate that led outside to the ground of the keep. As usual, two guardsmen had held positions on each side of the gate. As Duncan passed them, he heard the casual, "Morning, m'lord." From them both.
"Good morning, lads," Duncan said cheerily, gaining renewed smiles from both men. He let them get back to their duty and went outside.
The cold winter air hit him instantly. He let out a brief shiver and looked out upon the wide walls of the keep itself.
Torrhen's Square was about a fraction of the size of Winterfell, which itself was nothing to cough at. Duncan wondered how this keep had been built this far south, especially in the Wolfswood where it was isolated from everything else. The Kings of Winter must have been quite busy back in their day, Duncan thought to himself. He shrugged mentally, deciding that he simply didn't care, and proceeded towards a large squat stone building sitting along the wall.
At the end of the long path of paved stones, he stepped into the courtyard outside the Guardhouse. The men-at-arms were still getting themselves ready for training, finding their blunted swords in the armory, chatting idly, and rubbing the tiredness out of their eyes.
"Alright, you lot! Line up!" Roared the voice of Leobald Tallhart, the Castellan of Torrhen's Square and younger brother to Ser Helman. Leobald was a strong and grizzled man well into his years, and he reminded Duncan of old Rodrik Cassel due to his courteous attitude and his dismissal of tourneys. He had a full head of brown hair sprinkled with silver. He'd aged well, as he also served as Master-of-arms for Torrhen's Square.
Ser Leobald had begun addressing the men-at-arms, all of whom had assembled in a strict line. Immediately he segmented the young from the old, the inexperienced from the proficient. And when Duncan stepped into the yard, he turned to face him.
"Ah, young master Duncan!" Leobald greeted him with a hard, yet genuine smile. "Come to join us again today? Keen to help me show these louts a thing or two with the sword?"
"Please, Ser Leobald. I don't think you're being fair to louts." Duncan grinned in response.
A round of chuckles came from men. Northmen, especially guardsmen in service to a house, always insulted one another casually. During training, while eating meals, and on duty. It was typical practice, and it helped them forge bonds. So that they would have each other's backs in battle. Duncan knew that these men were already well-trained, even the boys who recently joined the guard knew a thing or two.
Roughly three moons ago, they initially hadn't been as comfortable to jibe and joke around him. He was a prominent young lord from the West. The future Head of House Mormont and knowledge of his family ties to House Targaryen was well-known and feared. Yet Duncan was undeterred as always, and soon managed to ingratiate himself with both the guardsmen and the Tallharts themselves.
When the laughs died away respectfully, Duncan nodded. "Of course, I'd be glad to join you. That is if I won't impede your regiment?"
"Not at all, young master!" Replied Leobald eagerly. He waved Duncan over. "Come on then! We're just getting started."
Duncan nodded and approached the older man, taking his position next to Leobald. Meanwhile, Leobald turned back to face the men.
Training went as well as could be expected. First, they all split into pairs to warm up and cross blades. Duncan instead took the chance to move around the courtyard himself and help correct the men on their stances, how they held their swords and their footwork. He would also show them the proper movements if one particular guardsman hadn't understood what he was saying.
After warm-up came strength training. Duncan joined the men in performing countless press-ups, and squats. Then they put the swords away and boxed each other in pairs. Finally, they ran laps around the courtyard carrying various weapons and shields.
By the time training was over, it was well past a few hours into the morning. The men went to wash away their sweat, and Duncan went back to the main keep with Leobald.
Time for breakfast.
It was an hour later. Duncan found himself sitting at the high table in the main hall. It had been the case for the last three moons, as he'd been hosted by the Tallharts so as to get to know them better now that they were more or less neighbors. What with the Stony Shore to the west and being one of House Mormont's holdings.
The main hall was a wide room with hearths on either side, keeping up with the symmetrical nature of the keep itself. It was warm, and there was plenty of laughter coming from the men-at-arms in their seats below, as well as from the family at the high table.
Duncan was served up with plates of sausage, bacon, eggs, and bowls of fresh fruit. Apples and turnips were cut up into slices and glazed in melted butter. There was a grand plate with cuts of roasted elk rubbed with salt, pepper, and oils exported from Dorne. The animal had been killed and brought back that very same morning by none other than Benfred Tallhart, the eldest son and heir of Helman Tallhart.
And best of all, he'd been able to get himself a good mug of steaming hot coffee. Paired, of course, with a generous spoonful of honey.
"...I should think you're an excellent swordsman for your age, Master Duncan." complimented Leobald. He looked to his elder brother. "Should've seen 'im in the yard today. Showing the lads proper technique and such. A fine warrior like I've never seen."
Duncan had the decency to bow his head. "You're too kind, Ser Leobald. These men of yours were well-trained even before I arrived. Far better than what I've seen in the South."
Leobald beamed with pride, meanwhile, his brother Ser Helman had likewise dipped his head in thanks. "That's high praise coming from you, Duncan." Said the Master of Torrhen's Square. They had already gotten past formalities. "You were trained by your father, is that right? And he was trained by Arthur Dayne?"
Helman Tallhart was similarly grizzled like his younger brother, except he held a strong jaw and stern, yet warm gaze that could calm an entire room. He too had seemed to have aged well.
"Of course," Duncan said easily and truthfully. "He taught me to use the blade at the age of six. I've never missed a day of training ever since. Just as he was taught by my uncle Arthur."
"It must be a very strict routine, I imagine." Said Benfred Tallhart, having since washed his blonde hair and pale skin of the sweat and salt that he'd gained from his early morning hunt.
"It's quite simple, actually. Just particularly punishing." Duncan quipped with a fresh smile. More chuckles came from around the table before he elaborated. "We have to run a lap for every mistake we make when training with the sword. My father said that he once had to run fifty laps around Winterfell before he collapsed from exhaustion. Took him almost two days to get them all done."
Leobald grinned almost sadistically. "I'll have to employ that strategy, then. It seems to have its effectiveness."
"I pray that it holds with your men as it did with my father's household guard," Duncan said genuinely. "But enough about all that. What's this I hear about your expansion in the Wolfswood being halted?"
Everyone at the table had been looking at him, but there was one pair of eyes that Duncan felt peering into his very being with each word he spoke. The owner of said eyes was on his left just a few seats down.
As he passed the conversational ball over to Ser Helman, he took a swig of his coffee and surveyed the table with a sweeping glance while everyone focused their attention on the Head of House Tallhart.
Sitting to the left of Ser Helman was his wife, Lady Wynira. She was sitting by Leobald's wife, Lady Berena Hornwood. Their youngest children sat by the other end of the table, as the seating plan went from youngest to eldest, with the exception of Duncan himself. Benfred Tallhart sat to the right of his father, and on his left was Bellanora Tallhart, the youngest daughter of Ser Helman and Lady Wynira.
And it was Bellanora, Duncan noted, who was gazing dreamily directly at him.
She was a beautiful girl of seven and ten. Just a few years younger than Duncan himself. Her hair was a head of blonde curls, similar to her mother's. Her waistline, though hidden by her woolen morning dress, was thin and could be gripped even with a single hand. Her face was heart-shaped but thin, and her nose aquiline, well-shaped. Her eyes were brown but seemed to turn yellow when met with candlelight.
Duncan mentally shrugged. Of course, he'd already spoken with her at length in private and had discovered her taste for books and literature, for adventure. It wasn't long before they shared hidden kisses in the dark. And that had led to other less than innocent things between them…
But Duncan's time in Torrhen's Square was coming to an end. He'd be leaving for Winterfell on the morrow. As such he wanted to enjoy what time he had left in this rustic keep deep in the Wolfswood. Perhaps he'd have her again later, perhaps not.
He switched his attention back onto Ser Helman. "...the Glovers haven't taken kindly to our advances. We're well within our own holdings, of course. Yet Lord Galbart simply refuses to allow us to build a smaller holdfast even encroaching on the borders between our territories. We've no ill intentions, naturally, yet the man seems to want to leave the Wolfswood uninhabited except for his own family."
Duncan nodded. "Lord Galbart has never particularly enjoyed seeing others succeed. Perhaps I could speak with Lord Stark for you on the matter when I arrive in Winterfell? I'm sure then Lord Galbart will be able to see reason."
Ser Helman gave him a gracious smile. "That would be most kind of you, Duncan. I would appreciate your aid on this matter."
The Wild Bear took another swig from his mug of coffee. "That's why I'm here," Duncan said. Noting down in his mind to follow up with Robb Stark once he arrived in Winterfell. He sat forward and wore a conspiratory smile.
"Now, I believe you were saying something about expansion?"
"...and with all the rich wildlife, I doubt you'll have issues feeding your men." Said Duncan finally. "Were there any other questions you had?"
Now it was late in the evening. Just after dinner. Most had gone off to bed, and the guardsmen on night duty had begun their patrol. Meanwhile, Duncan sat in the crude yet cozy stone brick office of Ser Helman Tallhart, directly across from the Master of Torrhen's Square.
Several meters beyond the desk was a great hearth which had roared twice in the last three hours alone every time Ser Helman had taken one of the logs kept by the side and tossed it into the flames. The sparks and embers flurried into the smokey air above the fire as if it were fresh snow flowing with the wind. It was a comforting sight, which elicited pleasant feelings in Duncan's mind.
Duncan himself had lazed back in his chair, albeit in a respectful manner. He was allowed to smoke his pipe and had been offered ale which he graciously accepted. Though he was fond of the Tallharts, he had already calculated more than a few possible outcomes of this deal between their houses. Either way, he didn't particularly care.
"A few." Helman had sat forward slowly, posting his elbows against the ironwood desk. "Forgive my bluntness, Duncan, but I fail to see what your Lord Father has to gain by helping me expand my family's holdings. Could you enlighten me on this?"
Duncan quickly recalled that he wasn't told to hold back any information. If anything, his father had stressed upon being entirely honest in this regard. Perhaps that would be best. "You're absolutely right. My father, and House Mormont by extension, has little to gain from helping you and yours. It would certainly be far more practical for us to snag a marriage out of this relationship of ours just so we can keep you close. And, might I be blunt, our holdings are far more extensive and are far more… scalable."
Despite the slight jabbing comparison between their houses, one that most lords south of the Neck would consider an insult, Ser Helman had seemed to have appreciated Duncan's bluntness. There was a small twinkle in his brown-yellow eyes that told him to go on.
"However, my father is a firm believer in honor. In the acts between men which binds us as brothers-in-arms. And so am I for that matter. Despite our differences, we still serve House Stark all the same, and we will defend Lord Robb and his family to the end." Duncan elaborated. "I am sure we can both agree on that,"
"We can." Said Helman easily. "What is your point, Duncan?"
Duncan smiled. "My point, Ser Helman, is that while my family has many detractors in the North and the South, you and yours seem to be willing to set aside these fears. This has interested my father, and he wishes to show you not what House Mormont is, but instead what we, as an entire kingdom, can become."
Helman Tallhart sank back slowly in his seat and pondered Duncan's words for a few moments. Thinking about what he might say next.
Duncan, for his part, simply went back to enjoying his smoking pipe. Today had been a good day, he felt.
"So your father is simply offering to help us out of the good of his heart?" Helman asked with a slight knowing smile. "Forgive me, but I have trouble believing that. I've met your father. He's courteous, though rather tough and shrewd, too. He doesn't seem the type to give away resources so readily to those not close to him."
"You can believe what you like, Ser Helman." Duncan shrugged. "My father would claim that he's grown sentimental in his old age. Naturally, we stand to gain your family as direct allies, those we could call friends when faced with the majority of those who wish us gone from the face of the earth. And he certainly would love to 'twist the knife' so to speak, in Galbart Glover's leg." He gave a brief chuckle, which he was happy to see Ser Helman share.
Duncan squared his face again. "Otherwise, the benefits fall squarely on you. We'd help you expand your holdings within your borders as much as we can within reason of course. We'll give you the resources you need, but it would be up to you on what to do with them. A small harbor closer to the Sunset Sea than the one you have now? A few more holdfasts you can give to your children? Perhaps even more settlements or an expansion of Lakeside? It's all up to you, really." He chose that moment to lean forward in his seat. "Ser Helman… my father simply ensures that his friends are looked after. And if all the houses in the North are stronger, then that makes House Stark stronger as well, no?"
The older man quickly nodded his head. He shook his head, crinkling his eyes while he broke out a wide, genuine grin. "I can see why your father sent you, Duncan. You certainly make a compelling case."
"I do what I can, Ser Helman." Duncan sat back in his seat again. "So? What do you say?"
Helman Tallhart nodded. "I accept," he said easily, offering his hand. Duncan shook it firmly.
They sat in the office for about thirty more minutes, changing the topic to more so their fellow bannermen. And Ser Helman even wanted to reminisce about his younger days when he trained more frequently as a soldier.
Duncan liked Helman Tallhart. He was a good man who was willing to adapt to the ever-growing and ever-changing political climate within the North. And he was willing to set aside his personal views on the Targaryens in favor of allying closely with House Mormont. All for the betterment of his people and his family.
Nor did Duncan ever detect any hints of deception in the older man (which both his mother and father had versed him on). He decided that Helman Tallhart simply wasn't politically ambitious in that sense, though he certainly wanted more as any right-minded man would.
He simply didn't have the men, nor the gold to see the job through. And in this regard, House Mormont excelled.
There was no malicious intent behind this deal. Nor any strings attached, as it wasn't the primary objective behind Duncan's visit to Torrhen's Square. His father had told him he needed to get to know his future fellow bannermen if only to know how to subvert them or perhaps bring them on his side.
Duncan Mormont would certainly say he'd done well in that sense.
Soon enough the meeting was wrapped up, with both men deciding it was time for bed. Duncan thanked Helman for his hospitality and for hosting him. The older knight said that he was pleased to have Duncan, and was glad that such a bright young man was the representative of the future of the North itself.
And with that, Duncan left the older man to his privacy and proceeded to walk back to his room. Tomorrow would be an early start, as he'd be making for the kingsroad, and eventually, to Winterfell.
The walk down the cold stone hallways brought forth an air of familiarity to Duncan Mormont. It reminded him exactly of Bear Keep. Of the rugged stonework, of the torch smoke, and the whispers and giggles of the serving girls as he passed by. It all reminded him of home.
Home. He would be home again soon, wouldn't he?
Duncan found the door to his room at the end of the long corridor and lifted up the latch sharply. He pressed open the door and stepped inside, then closed it shut behind him and locked it with the extra iron latch on the other side.
Yet, when he turned around, he stopped cold.
Sitting on his bed, wearing her night shift, was none other than Bellanora Tallhart.
Duncan smiled at the girl as he set aside his coat. "What is it, sweetheart? Should you not be in your own chambers?"
"I…" the girl started with an embarrassed blush. "I had to see you. You're leaving tomorrow."
"I am."
Bellanora stood to her feet and approached him. Though she could barely bring herself to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.
Duncan knew she was shy. He always liked that quality in a woman. It made them more adorable and endearing.
When there was little space between them, Duncan simply raised his rough hands to the edges of her dress still hanging on her shoulders, and gently tugged them down. They came off, soon revealing the two small breasts that were firm with desire for him. Even as the dress fell to the stone floor.
Duncan gently picked her up into his arms, feeling her wrap her legs around his waist and coil her arms around his neck in fervent response. They had done this before, of course. When he had taken her maidenhead. Likely reserved for another man from another house, no doubt. But Duncan didn't care, and quite frankly, neither did she.
He turned around and pressed her back against the door, taking care to make sure she was comfortable, yet not too much. She gave a sharp excited gasp, and when he reached up a hand to grasp at the long strands of blonde hair at the base of her neck, she firmly pulled him closer to her.
When he yanked her hair sharply, that was when Bellanora's shyness had disappeared. The girl had found renewed courage, and looked him intensely in the eyes with animal lust, and… even love.
Duncan made himself busy biting at her neck, and far below, he felt the girl rub her core up against his waist in anticipation of what would come next. When he finally did turn back around, still holding her in his arms, approached the bed, and tossed her lightly onto it.
They made love long into the night, for hours into the early morning. And when Bellanora fell tiredly into his arms, with sweat still adorning her brow and running down her pretty face, she gave him a simple, happy smile and said three words that would forever be ingrained in Duncan Mormont's mind from that point forward. Three words that would forever elicit the darkest feelings of guilt and pain in him for the rest of his human years…
"I love you."
