Warg Maiden

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones


Chapter 40: Northern Allies

Jon's POV

Jon stood by the ship's prow, staring straight ahead to Bear Island. Jon recalled coming here long ago, but not for the right reasons. He was a mere boy, as his father got word that the Lord of Bear Island had broken the law of selling men into slavery. He was a child, and Lady Catelyn wanted Jon out of the keep and took it as an opportunity. Jon remembered an island covered in trees surrounded by fog. The moment they stepped foot, Lady Maege announced that the Lord of Bear Island had abandoned his post along with his wife. Jon had never seen the fury Ned Stark had, but seeing it simmer was the closest he had ever witnessed.

And now Jon was here again. Bear Island contained old gnarled oaks, tall pines, flowering thorn bushes, moss-covered gray stones, and steep hills with streams. Jon took a deep breath when the ship docked, smelling the difference between here and the Wall. Even though there was a slight chill in the air, it was far warmer than expected. As melting snow could be seen, the trees were green, and the streams were flowing.

Jon, Sansa, Ser Davos, and Ghost met the greeting committee. However, Lady Lyanna was not there to greet them. Jon took no offense. Then again, being the Last Mormont in Westeros, her council is probably taking her safety seriously. Horses were provided as they were escorted to Mormont Keep.

There is a wood-walled castle with a smoky keep. The Mormont's' hall is built of huge logs and is surrounded by an earthen palisade. On the gate, there is a carving of a woman in a bearskin with a babe suckling at her breast in one arm and a battleaxe in the other. Sansa stared at the statue, and Jon did the same. It reminded him of the Free Folk Women. Then again, there was a debate about whether the people of Bear Island were native or part of the First Men. Ghost had to wait in the courtyard, but the white direwolf sensed no danger.

Anyway, they made their way into the Small Hall. In front of the hearth was a long table with three people sitting while guards were at their station. Shields of a bear standing decorated the hall. It was simple, not as luxurious as most Keeps, yet a sense of effort to a simple house was noted. Jon stared at the three people. The Master of Arms, the Maester, and the center are the head of the house.

Stannis Baratheon made no jest that the new head of House Mormont was a mere girl of ten, as her size contrasted with that of her two council members. She had the simple face of a child, with pale skin, dark hair pulled partly back, and dark eyes. A dark fur cloak of a bear consumed her form, yet Jon could make out a leather gorget consuming her chest.

"Lady Mormont," Jon greeted.

"Welcome to Bear Island," Lyanna greeted in a monotone voice.

Jon noticed her tone. Then again, the majority of Lady Mormont's family has perished in the last year. From what Jon recalled, her father died before she was born. Being raised by her mother and sisters. All had perished in the War of the Five Kings, specifically at the Red Wedding. Lyanna is just ten years old. Her only surviving relative was her older cousin, Jorah Mormont, who had committed treason by selling poachers, abandoning his honor, and running away to Essos. A burden to be a leader at such a young age, and the struggles of becoming a woman all at the same time.

Jon felt out of place since this was a sensitive subject. He glanced at Sansa, hoping she could relate to Lyanna more than he could.

Sansa adjusted herself, smiling, "I remember when you were born, my lady. You were named after my Aunt Lyanna. It was said she was a great beauty. I'm sure you will be, too."

Lyanna seemed unimpressed by the compliment. As her tone changed with bitterness, "I doubt it. My mother wasn't a great beauty or any kind of beauty. Nor were my sisters. They were great warriors, though. They died fighting for your brother Robb."

Sansa glanced at Jon, who noted this. Both mentally declared that Lyanna was far more mature than anticipated. Let alone the sharp grief the girl held for their brother's actions. Family seemed important, so connecting with her uncle's memory might help.

Jon took a cautious breath, "I served under your uncle at Castle Black, Lady Lyanna. He was also a great warrior and an honorable man. I was his steward. In fact –"

"I think we've had enough small talk," Lady Lyanna interrupted. "Why are you here?"

Straight to the point, Jon thought.

"Stannis Baratheon garrisoned at Castle Black before he marched on Winterfell and was killed," Jon announced. "He showed me the letter you wrote to him when he petitioned for men. It said—"

"I remember what it said," she interrupted again. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark."

For a moment, Jon thought he was talking to Jeor, a man who was straight to the point. But most of all, this girl was a challenge to convince. And if she holds traditional values, then there is a high chance she will not support a bastard and a runaway wife.

"Robb is gone, but House Stark is not, and it needs your support now more than ever." Jon reminded, gesturing to Sansa. "I've come with my sister to ask for House Mormont's allegiance."

Lady Lyanna paused and turned to her Maester, who leaned forward, whispering in her ear. After a moment, the Maester pulled back, and Lad Lyanna adjusted her form with a smug expression.

"As far as I understand, you're a Snow and Lady Sansa is a Bolton," she stated. "Or is she a Lannister? I've heard conflicting reports. "

Sansa kept a neutral expression, "I did what I had to do to survive, my lady. But I am a Stark. I will always be a Stark."

"If you say so," Lady Lyanna said. "In any case, you don't just want my allegiance. You want my fighting men."

"Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, my lady," Jon said, feeling his frustration but trying to keep his composure. "It is our duty to stop him. Even more so because he holds our brother Rickon Stark as prisoner."

The three members of the Bear Island Council seemed unphased.

Jon took a deep breath, "What you have to understand, my lady, is that –"

"I understand that I'm responsible for Bear Island and all who live here," Lady Lyanna interrupted with authority. "So why should I sacrifice one more Mormont life for someone else's war?"

It was clear that Lady Lyanna declared the Bear Island citizens as her family. The War of the Five Kings took her intermediate family away from her. And if Lyanna is aware of what is going on, then she knows that members of the Night's Watch murdered her uncle. How could a ten-year-old girl trust anyone outside of Bear Island? Then again, many would assume less from House Mormont being run by a mere girl. However, when a Mormont joined a war, many would follow them.

But will they follow a girl at the age of ten?

Jon and Sansa tried to find words, yet Ser Davos stepped in.

"If it pleases, my lady. I understand how you feel," Ser Davos spoke, standing next to Jon.

Lady Lyanna raised a cautious brow, "I don't know you, Ser….?"

"Davos, my lady, of House Seaworth," the knight answered.

Jon and Sansa remained quiet, seeing the once Hand of the King could solve their problem. Lady Lyanna paused, not recognizing the name, and leaned over to her Maester. However, Ser Davos spoke up.

"You needn't ask your maester about my house. It's rather new," Ser Davos said.

Lady Lyanna corrected herself, "All right, Ser Davos of House Seaworth. How is it you understand how I feel?"

"You never thought you'd find yourself in your position," Ser Davos answered. "Being responsible for so many lives at such a young age. I never thought I'd be in my position. I was a crabber's son, then I was a smuggler. And now I find myself addressing the lady of a great house in a time of war. But I'm here because this isn't someone else's war. It's our war."

Jon noted the way Ser Davos talked. It reminded him of how he talked to the late Princess Shireen. Does Ser Davos see Shireen in the young she-bear? Or does he respect strong-willed children? Either way, Jon let the knight continue.

Lady Lyanna nodded, "Go on, Ser Davos."

"Your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont, made that man his steward," Ser Davos said, pointing at Jon. "He chose Jon to be his successor because he knew he had the courage to do what was right, even if it meant giving his life."

Jon prayed Ser Davos didn't go into details of her ladyship's uncle's death.

"Because Jeor Mormont and Jon Snow understood that the real war isn't between a few squabbling houses. It's between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming."

Lady Lyanna's face went blank. As if she understood what Ser Davos was talking about. Nearly every child had been told of the White Walkers and wights. How the dead came back to life in the first Long Night. Tales to scare children to behave and stay inside their homes. Yet, the expression Lyanna held told Jon that she was a girl who believed in those stories. Maybe it was something her mother and sisters had warned her to keep to her heart.

"Is this true?" she asked, her dark eyes on Jon now.

Jon nodded, "Your uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost."

Jon could faintly hear the cries of the Free Folk being slaughtered by wights.

"As long as the Boltons hold Winterfell, the North is divided," Ser Davos added. "And a divided North won't stand a chance against the Night King. You want to protect your people, my lady. I understand. But there is no hiding from this. We have to fight, and we need to do it together."

Lady Lyanna stared at Ser Davos before glancing at Sansa, then focused on Jon. Jon could barely make out the girl's expression, as if she wore a mask. Yet, in her eyes. In her eyes, he saw a scared little girl afraid of the unknown. Before they arrived, Lady Lyanna would have to fear the Ironborn and Wildlings raiding Bear Islands. Let alone if Ramsay Bolton dares come for a visit to check the lands and her status. But to remind her of an ancient enemy, it startles something inside the she-bear.

The Maester leaned over to his ladyship, whispering in her ear. However, she raised her gloved hand to silence him. Having come up with her decision, the Maester did not argue as he pulled back. All three guests stared at the girl, wondering about her decision.

"House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for a thousand years," Lyanna announced.

Jon took a deep breath.

"We will not break faith today," she had decided.

Jon exhaled with relief. They had the Free Folk, House Overton, and now House Mormont. The two houses will encourage the other lesser houses to join.

Jon stepped forward, "Thank you, my lady."

Lady Lyanna nodded.

"How many fighting men can we expect?" Jon asked. As he last remembered, it had to be a thousand or two men.

Lyanna leaned over to her Master of Arms. He whispered the answer to her in what seemed to be appropriate to give. She nodded as she corrected herself to face the Starks.

"Sixty-two," She answered.

Dread filled Jon, for that was not an army but a platoon. Not even a company.

"Sixty-two?" Jon repeated to be sure he heard correctly.

"We're not a large house, but we're a proud one, " Lady Lyanna confirmed. "And every man from Bear Island fights with the strength of ten mainlanders."

"If they're half as ferocious as their lady, the Boltons are doomed," Ser Davos complimented to mask their dismay.

Lady Lyanna cracked a genuine smile.

Two hundred and sixty-two men, Jon thought, in their Northern numbers, not including the Free Folk. Jon hoped Imogen and Tormund were doing better to get more clans to join their cause. Otherwise, they will be slaughtered.

.o0o.

Imogen's POV

After a day of resting, I had a meeting with the chieftains and Magnars. Fenrir, Boudica, and Tormund were there as I tried to explain the Southerners' methods of fighting. Going over the history and terms of Bloodraven and the memories of historical battles that did not involve dragons.

"And why should we know this?" Soren Shieldbreaker asked. He had a massive frame, with a giant ax strapped to his back. "We know how to fight."

"Yes, we all know how to fight." I agreed. "But we are not fighting villagers or lesser houses. The Boltons are not the Night's Watch. They are growing in power with the support of House Umber and House Karstark. You all know how the Umbers fight us who travel over the Wall. They don't show mercy. And that is just there's a scout. Imagine their armies."

Soren scowled but nodded to continue.

"Southern armies follow a strict method of obedience and control," I continued. "Some of you all have some sort of strict orders in large parties. However, many follow the act of surprise and submit to the enemy to cut them down. The Boltons are aware we rely on being unpredictable. They will expect our brutal fighting style."

"And how would they do that?" Devyn Sealskinner asked.

I took a deep breath, trying to explain, and then stared at Blind Doss. "Blind Doss, tell us how your tribe hunts for polar bears."

Blind Doss, an older leader who was blind, sat there. "We take our shields and spears, creating a cage around the polar bear."

"And once you trap it, what do you do?" I asked.

"We stab it until it submits or dies," he answered.

I nodded, "As you know how the Bearwind tribe hunts, that is how the Southerners will do to us. The moment they trap us in their formation, we will be slaughtered."

They nodded, taking the information in. I continued to explain the military tactics that the Southerners used, especially the Boltons. I have seen what they have done in the fields outside Winterfell. Stannis's army piled up to decay while hundreds were crucified in their skinned form. I thought a Thenn was more savage than any tribe. But seeing how the Boltons do towards the dead, they make them seem less. Then again, a Thenn would consume their fallen opponent than leave it to rot.

After the meeting, Boudica advised that those who volunteer should start training. They nodded as they left. Once they were gone, I sighed, collapsing into a worn chair.

Fenrir held a proud smile. "You will make a proud chieftess."

A part of me wanted to smile. Even though the Dire Tribe will be shared with the twins, hearing that meant one thing. He was considering making a branch tribe. Women work hard to be chieftess, as men are priority successors. If we were to survive, those willing to follow my lead would join.

However, I know my fate. As much as I want to be a leader, there is a sense that death is near. That I will not survive the second long night. That I would die doing what was necessary to defeat the Night King. I will die with the Night King and the Three-Eyed Raven.

"Indeed," Boudica agreed. "You might want to be careful."

I scoffed, shaking my head. There hasn't been any indication of Red Wanderer's priority in nearing the Moonmaid. A red star will shine within the constellation. A time for men to steal their wives from the majority of the Free Folk. However, not all tribes and clans follow the same customs. I shared many nights fighting against those who sneak past Skadi. For I have no interest in a husband right now.

Father scowled at his wife. If my father had his way, men would seek my heart and plead for his guidance. Then again, after what had transpired, my father would never let another man touch me in that way. Not after what the Crows did to me.

"Anyway, we need to focus on training the volunteers," I reminded.

"Telling a bunch of Wildlings to think like a Southerner will be." Fenrir agreed.

"But we must do it," Boudica said. "If the Boltons are in our way, we must do what is right."

Fenrir nodded, staring at the broken mosaic map of the North etched along the Wall. One could barely make out unless staring at it.

"It would be a first in over six thousand years since a Wild Stark set foot in Winterfell," Fenrir murmured.

It was the first time I had heard my father admit his heritage outside his home in Lunar Haven. When I told Fenrir who our ancestors were, mixed emotions filled him. Last names and House Names were not common. A second name is earned. And yet, we bare the sigil of House Stark on our necks, oblivious to its origin other than it has been passed down through the generations. We continue the crest in our jewelry, weapons, and everyday things.

With all the travels, no one has noticed the connections. One we are thankful for. Then again, Sansa and Jon have not been waving their crest. But when the moment comes, everyone will notice. The weather south of the Wall has been warmer, and many Free Folks have shed their furs and wore their usual attire. The same with the Dires.

"And it will be something for you and the children," Boudica agreed. "But we are wild. Remember that."

Fenrir nodded as he gently pulled his wife into his arms and placed a kiss on her. I slightly smile at their affection. They continue to kiss and be handsy. Realizing what they intended, I left the room. But a small part of me craves what my parents have.

Hopefully, Jon found more allies.

The faster we can resolve the Boltons, the sooner we can focus on the Great War.

.o0o.

Jon's POV

The campaign has been hectic since leaving Bear Island. Some houses have kept their vow and will honor House Stark. However, the war of the five kings has limited their numbers. So far, they had the Overtons, the Mormonts, the Hornwood, and the Mazin. Giving a total of six-hundred-and-five. There was hesitation even when mentioning the Wildlings, but Jon assured them they would not head south past Winterfell. Jon felt the Wildlings didn't want to abandon their true home.

However, other houses are near extinct. As much as they honored their oath, they no longer had an army to provide for them. They offer limited supplies, but supplies are not the same as those of men. Despite their frustration, the Lesser Houses promised not to tell Ramsay and wished them the best.

But there were other houses that were afraid of Ramsay Bolton. Mainly Houses that were run by widows with children's heirs. Their Mast of Arms or Maesters greeted them, saying they could not provide. They should also apologize, along with a word about which houses to avoid. The Karstarks and the Umbers were not the only Bolton supporters.

Both Starks were getting desperate. Jon hopes Imogen and Tormund are doing well in training the Free Folk. Trying to convince many to join. He reminded himself they would have an estimation of five thousand. Against a possible six thousand. They needed more men. They would have a fighting chance if they can get at least another thousand.

And so, they were in Deep Motte. They should have come here after Bear Island but sailed south and made their way up. As Ser Davos suggested, to be random and not make it obvious. No doubt Ramsay is aware they are no longer in Castle Black. They had to be unpredictable to avoid any of Ramsay's spies. So far, their plan has succeeded.

But now they were in the domain of House Glover. Sansa had some knowledge of House Glover's involvement in the War of the Five Kings. As did Ser Davos, which they told Jon since he was in the True North during that time. Galbart Glover was the first to support Robb in the rescue of Lord Eddard Stark, being appointed to lead the vanguard. Greatjon Umber took offense, threatening to leave, so Robb had Grey Wind rip off two fingers to keep leadership and defend House Glover. It ended with laughter, but respect was earned until the Red Wedding. Master Galbert died at the Red Wedding while his remaining troops were there. Meanwhile, the Ironborn had invaded Deep Motte. Many subjects slaughtered and assaulted Lady Sybelle Glover and her daughter, Erena. Roose Bolton came to Robett Glover, offering aid in retaking Deep Motte.

Now, the question is, is House Glover going to honor its oath to House Stark or keep its new oath to House Bolton? However, there have been no reports of the Houses coming to Winterfell to pledge fealty. Either Roose Bolton didn't care for traditions, or the exhaustion of war delayed it.

They entered the courtyard of Deep Motte. Soldiers were lined up guarding the keep, holding shields of a silver fist on a scarlet field. The banners were everywhere.

Lord Robett Glover stood at the entry with his son Gawen. At first, they greeted the trio with courtesy until Jon asked for support in their campaign to take back Winterfell. The civility they received vanished as the hardness consumed the older man's face.

"The answer is no," Robett answered.

"Lord Glover, if you could just hear us out," Jon said.

"I've heard enough," Lord Glover barked, his authority silencing Jon.

Jon glared at Robett Glover.

"We only just taken back this castle from the Ironborn. The Boltons helped us do it." Lord Glover said. "Now you want me to fight against them? I could be skinned for even talking to you."

"The Boltons are traitors," Jon tried to explain. "Roose Bolton – "

"Have other northern houses pledged to fight for you?" Lord Glover asked, interrupting Jon.

Jon bit his lip.

"House Overton and House Mormont," Jon answered, knowing those Houses hold high respect.

"And?" Lord Glover asked, faltering slightly.

Jon had to be careful. He named those two houses since the Boltons are aware that House Overton served Stannis. Meanwhile, House Mormont is isolated within the Bay of Ice. With winter nearing, Ramsay wouldn't dare travel by ship. However, the other three houses that have landed their support are on the mainland. Easy access to strike.

Jon listed the neutral houses, "We sent ravens to Houses Manderly—"

"I don't care about ravens," Lord Glover interrupted again with distaste. "You're asking me to join your army. Who is fighting in this army?"

Jon glanced at Ser Davos, who gestured to him not to tell. Nonetheless, Jon knew lies lead to nowhere but death. As the majority of their army was made out of the Free Folk. And remembering Maester Luwin's lessons, Deep Motte has been raided by Wildlings for thousands of years. Primarily those from the West Coast. Although the blood of House Glover is primarily the First Men, they have forgotten like all the Northerns.

"The bulk of the forces is made up of wildlings," Jon answered, staring Lord Glover in the eyes.

Lord Glover laughs, "Then the rumors are true. I didn't dare believe them."

The weathered lord sighed, staring at Sansa and Jon, "I received you out of respect for your father. Now I would like you to leave. House Glover will not abandon its ancestral home to fight alongside wildlings."

Without another word, he turned, marching up the steps.

"Lord Glover," Jon nearly pleaded.

They needed Lord Glover. He roughly had seven hundred men they could use.

"There's nothing else to say," Lord Glover dismissed.

"I would remind you that House Glover is pledged to House Stark," Sansa spoke for the first time since arriving at Deep Motte. The sharpness and anger could be detected in her voice. "Sworn to answer when called upon."

Jon turned his attention to her. Making sure she was alright with handling this.

Her blue eyes glared at the Older Lord's back. As if the man could feel her glare, he turned around to face her. He, too, returned the glare as if Sansa ripped old wounds. Jon exhaled, cautiously placing his hand on Longclaw if needed but not drawn. Lord Glover approached, standing before Sansa, towering over her.

"Yes, my family served House Stark for centuries," Lord Glover seethed. "We wept when we heard of your father's death. When my brother was lord of this castle, he answered Robb's call and hailed him King in the North."

Sansa kept a neutral expression.

Jon kept guard, ready to intervene.

Lord Glover stepped closer and continued, "And where was King Robb when the Ironborn attacked this castle? When they threw my wife and daughter in prison and brutalized and killed our subjects? Taking up with a foreign whore. Getting himself and those who followed killed."

Sansa's eyes faltered.

Lord Glover saw this and glanced at Jon, who showed his disappointment and shame. For there was no doubt that Lady Sybelle and Lady Erena were raped and tortured. And the people slaughter as a means of entertainment.

"I served House Stark once, but House Stark is dead," Lord Glover said.

Sansa only blinked.

Lord Glover returned to the steps, gesturing his son and men to follow. Leaving Jon, Sansa, and Ser Davos in the courtyard. They knew Robb's actions would haunt them. But to see a vassal house truly affected by Robb's choices left many citizens dead by the Ironborn. And to House Glover, the Wildlings were no different from the Ironborn. The only difference was snow and sea.


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