The moment I saw the Stark ships, I realized right then and there that I'd have to keep my skeletons under wraps – for now – just to make sure the wolf boys weren't scared off the moment they walked out of their ships. So, I had my undead minions hide in the woods, stopping their activities; it'd slow things down a lot, but it was no longer my problem, honestly. By my count, there were probably less than three hundred or so Starks – or Stark Representatives, at least – about to disembark from their ships. They weren't enemies. These were civilizedfolk – here to offer their aid to Lysa Mormont.

I didn't need to scare the shit out of them, even if that would be pretty funny. No, I'm pretty sure the mere sight of my magic would have these people on edge immediately.

I had to keep Nightfury hidden too, which wouldn't be too much of a problem as my not-so-little Fatalis had sequestered for himself a cozy little cave, high up in the mountains of Bear Island and had very likely fallen asleep. And would only wake up when I called him. That was honestly a very interesting development as, moments earlier, he'd been playing fetch with my skeletons. I wasn't sure what drove him to sleep. Must've been boredom. But, hey, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I eyed the Stark men and women, each of them dressed in furs and leathers. Hardy folk. I wondered, briefly, if the Lord Stark was actually with them, before dismissing that thought entirely. It certainly was possible, but it would be too dangerous and, not to mention, outright unnecessary. More than likely, these people were led by someone of the Stark Household, someone of high position, but wasn't so important that their death would bump up the succession. Or, at least, that's what I'd do if I was the Lord Stark. No way I was sending anyone too important to Bear Island, which was pretty much the first place the Wildlings always attacked whenever the fuckers felt like going south for fun and recreation.

So, they were here to help, which also meant my time on this island was ending.

Of course, if these guys proved hostile in any way, then I wouldn't hesitate to slaughter them. I didn't spend all this time, helping Lysa, only for some other people to come and ruin shit for her. They weren't Wildlings, definitely not, but I do remember Eddard Stark being somewhat of an outlier among Starks – the one guy who wasn't an impulsive asshole and also gave quite a lot of value to the concept of honor.

My skeletons in the woods and Nightfury asleep in the mountains, I stepped forward and joined the villagers who'd gathered at the very edge of the unfinished dock, built by my undead like so many of the unfinished structures around us. There were about a hundred people around me, most of whom offered me a very generous berth as I approached. Only Halga stood at my side.

I'd gotten used to it at this point. And, it was an inevitability, anyway. Being a Necromancer meant the brunt of my power would come from my undead armies and not the big fireballs I'd be shooting from my fingers. I still wanted the fireballs, but I was stuck with being the Lich King 2.0 for now.

"They actually came," Halga muttered.

I nodded. "Yep. Now, I'll wait and see if these guys mean well or if they'll cause trouble for Lysa."

"Why'd you hide your... err... undead minions, Jason?" Halga suddenly asked, eyebrows raised as she glanced around, searching for my unpaid interns when, moments earlier, this place was swarming with them as they dug ditches and placed iron stakes in the ground or whatever random thing Maester Bernard instructed them to do that I couldn't be bothered to learn about.

"Might spook the Starks," I answered, shrugging. Halga nodded. "I mean, everyone around us is already kind of used to it and even they're spooked by my skeletons. So, unless it becomes necessary, then I'd prefer to keep my undead minions hidden, mostly for Lysa's sake."

"I understand." Halga said. "But, what I don't understand is your refusal to take her hand. Any man in your position would've taken it, you know. Lysa Mormont is beautiful, young, and bountiful where it counts; and she's strong and willful. Why refuse her hand?"

Good question.

"Ah, I guess I never really told you." I said, realizing just now that Halga's never really brought this topic up before. And no one really ever asked me, either, not even Lysa herself, though I did leave her with a pretty big hint as to my preferences. "While I admire Lysa for the traits that you so kindly enumerated for me, I honestly have very little interest in her. I have no want or need for lands or power, and I certainly have no interest in ruling over anyone. And, most importantly, I don't want to marry someone I'm neither attracted to or in love with. Call me romantic, but I'd actually want to spend the rest of my days with someone I actually love, ya know?"

"And, also," I continued, clearing my throat. "I like older women – much older than Lysa. And, nope, I'm not about to share any details; so, don't ask."

"Older women, eh?" Halga repeated, smirking as she elbowed me. "Ones with matronly hips and heavy bosoms? Never figured you for being that sort of man, Jason. But, it seems you have good tastes; even I can see the appeal of such women. You would have loved Lysa's mother, then. Widowed, wide hips, and good tits; you'd have been smitten."

Amen, sister.

"Let's not talk more about this," I said, breathing in. "As enjoyable as the topic is, we have other things we need to focus on, yes?"

Halga snorted. "Sure, suit yourself. But, hey, looks like it's not their daughters the lords should be fearful for, but their wives!"

The Stark Fleet did not, unfortunately, find enough room in the docks for all their vessels. Instead, many of their ships laid anchor in the outlying beach, which was shallow enough for their ships to safely make berth, without fear of crashing into sharp rocks, which were an abundant feature everywhere else in Bear Island. Ultimately, their flagship, which I figured to be the most important vessel by virtue of all the decorations around it and the large wolf insignia of House Stark, docked in front of the infant city. Over my shoulder, I watched from my peripheral vision as Lysa Mormont, accompanied by her new house guard, warriors she handpicked from a bunch of brave volunteers, walked out of Mormont Keep and into the dock. Her guards, I mused, were little more than villagers who'd shown their bravery during the very brief, but very bloody occupation of the Wildlings, men and women who'd slain quite a number of the barbarians.

Lysa sent a glance my way and then smiled.

I smiled back as she gestured for me to stand at her side. I turned to Halga. "Come on. We should stand by Lysa Mormont's side. If shit goes down, it'll be easier to defend her."

Halga nodded and, as we walked towards Lysa Mormont, she asked, "Do you think the Lord Stark's men are going to attack her?"

"Nope, not at all," I said. "But a show of force is somewhat necessary. We don't want the Stark Envoy to think that Lysa's too weak. Otherwise, they'll try to take advantage of her during negotiations."

"Ah, I don't get it." Halga shrugged. "But, whatever."

Halga technically wasn't necessary for this, but she'd wormed her way into Lysa's good graces, after taking care of the young lady when she was knocked unconscious and was in need of aid. Halga was also a fearless warrior. She wasn't any good in the technical sense, but a spear was kind of a no-brainer weapon. And, if nothing else, Halga was freakishly strong for a woman of her size and build. So, she kind of became an unofficial member of Lysa's personal guard, but with way more freedom compared to the others due to being friends with Lysa Mormont herself.

"Well," I said. "Think of it this way: would you rather attack a man who's carrying a weapon or a man you has no weapon?"

Halga eyed me for a moment, before shrugging. "Of course, I'll attack the one without a weapon."

"Because he's less dangerous, right?" I asked. And Halga nodded. "It's kind of the same here. House Stark isn't an enemy, I think, but we don't want them to start thinking that Lysa's just someone they can push around. Sure, they're probably a lot stronger than her, since House Mormont currently cannot field any army whatsoever, but we don't want her to appear weak, either way."

"Ah, I think I kind of get it now." Halga nodded and smiled. "We show them that Lady Mormont's not someone they can just mess with or bully."

"Exactly!"

The first among the Stark Envoy to actually approach us was a tall, dark-haired woman with cold blue eyes. She was accompanied by a score of grizzled warriors, each one heavily armed and fully armored – not in plate, but in a combination of gambesons and mails, and heavy furs over their shoulders. I had no idea who the woman actually was, but – if the books were anything to go by – she was probably a member of House Stark, based entirely on her features. She honestly kind of reminded me of a more roughed-up Yennefer from the Witcher 3, with less curves and more muscles, a single scar running down her right eye, through her eyebrow.

She was also taller than me, by a full head. She was probably in her late thirties or very early forties.

Woah mama.

Lysa Mormont stepped forward and tipped her head. "Welcome to Bear Island, Lady Meera Stark; it is my honor to greet you. Please, forgive the lack of a... welcoming festivity. Bear Island has suffered greatly in the last few weeks and we've not had much time to rebuild."

"There is no need for pleasantries at all, Lady Mormont," The now-named Meera Stark answered, also tipping her head forward. Once again, here was a character who I had no idea even existed. But, as I figured, this time period in the history of Westeros probably wasn't so tumultuous, given the lack of recognizable characters, thus far. Shit, I'd already forgotten who the king was, but I remembered that I didn't recognize his name when Lysa told me. "My brother, Lord Roland Stark, received your raven some time ago, and has deigned to send me to represent House Stark in this troubled times. I come with workers, provisions, building resources, and armed warriors to help you rebuild your home stronger and hardier than ever before. Forgive us for the delay, Lady Mormont, but we are here now and House Stark always stands ready to aid its vassals in their hour of need."

"And I humbly accept the aid of House Stark," Lysa Mormont said, before she gestured at Mormont Keep. "Come, Lady Stark, let us continue our discussions in my home. It might not be as grand as the castles in the mainland, but it is my home all the same. And, if nothing else, we do have plenty of food."

Lysa shot a glance at me when she said, 'food', knowing full well that I'd gathered pretty much all the food that everyone was eating at the moment. Not complaining, since having my unpaid interns perform all the menial tasks and chores boosted my fine control to high heaven. I could probably command them all now even with my eyes closed. Speaking of eyes, Lysa was doing a very good job of keeping all the attention to herself, issuing forth a very commanding presence that just demanded the eyes and ears of those who listened; she was a natural leader, I figured, one that would eventually lead her people to prosperity and wealth.

"Then, lead the way, Lady Mormont," Meera Stark smiled. "While we discuss and negotiate, perhaps the workers and warriors who accompanied me can begin establishing their tents and camps?"

"Of course, Lady Stark."

As we accompanied Lysa, I quietly moved all my undead as far away from this part of Bear Island as possible. Didn't want or need to spook the guests. If things went well enough, then I could finally leave tomorrow and start my adventure in the mainland.

AN: Chapter 25 is up on (Pat)reon!