Capítulo 90: 15
Chapter 16: The Bear and the Valeman
I got to say, thank you for the support, laddies. I really do enjoy writing that story and it's nice to see people interested in my work.
Just got to say though... Guys chill with the criticisms. I get that a lot of you have some investment in the stories and genuinely want them to do well, but there is a way to do it.
Like I lost count of how many promising stories ended up abandoned because the author made one or 2 mistakes and got buried in a sea of needlessly harsh comments. I'm all for free expression, however there's a tacit agreement of politeness and respect between most humans.
Even if you don't know them, the writers are still people, writing for free for our enjoyment. The least they deserve is a modicum of respect and sympathy.
(I'm specifically talking about the fact that a fic I quite like, Robert The Good, got scrapped because a lot of people disagreed with a choice from the author and made their disappointment known to him really really harshly).
Anyway, enjoy the chapter. I enjoyed writing it.
"Good morning, m'lord", an older man said, as he took off his hat and bowed to his lord as he passed him on the street.
Beor Mormont didn't answer back, simply nodding at the man, with a smile on his face. He would have to forgive him for his lack of manners, for Beor had a lot on his mind on this otherwise fine morning.
He was trekking through First Light as he often early in the morning. Looking around, he had to admit to himself, the growing city had come a long way. Five or so years ago, only a small town existed where he stood, growing around the old Mormont keep.
Now, however, Bear Island had a proper city. Admittedly First Light was not as grand as its Southern counterparts, but to Beor, the city was beautiful.
The city itself laid snug in the bay, spreading more and more the further inland you went. He had pulled no punches, cobblestoned streets that crisscrossed the young city, clearly separated districts, along with a charming growing suburb. He even had a working sewage system.
Although a significant majority of his people still lived in their small villages across the island, First Light still boasted a population of around twenty thousands, composed mostly of Bear Islanders; there was however a non negligible part of the inhabitants that was newly arrived.
They hailed from everywhere between the Wall and the Riverlands. He had promised lands and safety to smallfolk all around the realm, and it was with great pleasure that he looked upon the result of his endeavour. First Light was beautiful, and it was thriving.
The population boom didn't stop at Bear Island, though, in fact, most of the newcomers had settled on Sea Dragon Point, as it was vast and bountiful, with a more clement weather compared to the island from which he hailed.
Already had the mining of coal began in the peninsula, for it to be shipped to Bear Island and Deepwood Motte. The introduction of boilers had been a boon for those two keeps. It was still warm as of now, being in the middle the longer summer recorded, but the Northerners knew that it wouldn't last forever, that soon winter would come, and with it, all the death and starvation that follows.
"Good morning, m'lord", a young redhead woman said to him. She had a little girl in tow, a miniature version of herself who looked to be around five or six , with the same hair colour and everything . Like most of his other subjects, she had a look of undisguised respect and awe in her eyes. Even after all those years, it was still a bizarre sight to him to see people stare at him with those eyes. The gods only knew the kind of embellished stories parents tell their kids about their "good lord Beor Mormont."
Beor gave the woman a nod and a smile. "And hello, there", he said squatting to the girl's eye-level, attempting a gentle smile. She quickly hid in the skirts of the young woman, causing the two of them to chuckle.
" This is my sister, m'lord", said woman, looking down at Beor from where he was, her face as red as a tomato as she emphasize the word "sister, "Please, forgive her, she is very shy."
She guided the child by the shoulder towards the Mormont. "Go on, Jeyne, say hello to Lord Mormont", she said, a soft smile on her face.
Large blue eyes timidly met soft amber ones, as the now named Jeyne muttered a quiet "good morning, m'lord."
Beor smile at that, the little girl reminding him of his own granddaughters.
"And good morning to you, little Jeyne", he said, genuinely happy, at this point.
The little girl's face twisted into a utterly delightful grimace, a face of pure anger to her, but the epitome of cuteness to Beor.
"I'm not little", she said, her round cheeks reddening as she pouted, "I'm almost six years old."
"Jeyne!", said the elder sister, an horrified look on her face, admonishing her little sister, who had the decency of looking embarrassed . " I'm sorry, my lord, I'm so sorry, she's only a child, she didn't mean any offense", she said, bowing to him, sounding quite distraught, likely thinking that her sister had committed a grave sin against him.
"No, no, it's alright", he said making a placating gesture with his hand, before looking back a the fiery little girl.
"Apologies, my lady Jeyne", he said, bowing, a contrite look on his face. "I shall be more careful in the future. I wouldn't want to offend a fierce lady such as you" he finished, a roguish smile on his face.
He patted her head, causing her to let out a oh so charming "eep", before standing up, his large stature instantly dwarfing the two women.
"She's a good kid", he said, in his deep voice, addressing the elder sister. "And what is your name, young lady? he asked, his eyes meeting a set of eyes as blue as the ocean in the distance.
She gave him a look of pure longing, before remembering she was supposed to answer
" Beor, m'lord Anna", she fumbled, " I mean, my name is Anna, m'love Beor." Her face shone red, as red as her hair, embarrassed, as she attempted to regain her composure. Beor just looked on quietly, a muted smile on his face
"My name is Anna, m'lord Beor.", she said, after a deep breath.
"It's pleasure to have met you Anna", he said pressing two silver stags in her palm. "And you too, lady Jeyne." He smiled at them before going on his way.
"Thank you, my lord!", she said to his back, bowing.
This was a common occurrence, to find the young lord walking through First Light in the morning, greeting the sun, the city and its inhabitants.
But today, however familiar, was slightly different. For you see, Beor was turning ten and six in a matter of weeks. Whilst he didn't particularly care one way or the other, Dacey was adamant that the occasion warranted great feasts and celebration, not only for his sake, but also to celebrate the official naming of their growing city.
As such, she had seen it fit to send invitations to all the Northern Houses and even some further South at the insistence of Maester Lowry. The response had been quite surprising to the young Mormont admittedly. All the houses invited had accepted, some rather enthusiastically.
Highborn from the all of the North were now coalescing towards Bear Island, and Deepwood Motte, the nearest large settlement. Even Southrons on the western coast from the Riverlands, the Westerlands and the Reach promised their presence and couldn't say enough how honoured they were to be invited in the celebration of " Such a singular being as the Great Lord Beor Mormont."
"Fucking brown noses", Beor muttered in his breath as he thought back on the syrupy letters he had been read by his maester. They had had quite the laugh that day he remembered fondly.
He had also received the news that even House Lannister was sending an emissary. It probably be one of Tywin's brothers, but deep down inside, he really wished it to be one perverted little man with a knack for witty comeback. He had not seen Tyrion Lannister ever since he had left Casterly Rock after the tourney all those years ago
He arrived at the docks just after dawn, with the sun still kissing the ocean, the sea breeze cold and crisp on his face. He had done the trip on foot every day for almost a year now. He waited for half an hour or so, as he always, before slowly making his way back to the Mormont keep.
Walking from the port to his castle gave him time to ponder his current situation. 'It had always been a long shot', he thought as he waved to passersby greeting him, 'I knew it, and Jon sure did know it.'
His mind went back to a little less than a year ago, when he floated around the idea of attempting to cross the Sunset Sea. It had been attempted before and possibly achieved by the renowned Elissa Farman. The idea of finding a way across the western waters and either discovering new lands or new markets had always been something he had wanted to try.
With no hesitation, however, his mother grabbed her mace and proceeded to swing wildly at him -as she had taken to do ever since she realized her fists didn't hurt him anymore-, attempting to either brain him or bringing him back to his senses.
No amount of explanations, bribery or coercion seemed capable on making her changed her mind. She was scared to the death that Beor's unquenchable and reckless ambition would one day be the death of him, so she had made it her duty to keep him from walking into his grave with that stupid smug smile on his face.
After months of trying and failing, and with her even actively sabotaging his expedition, he relented. For a while.
He had decided instead of a different course of action. If he couldn't go, then he only had to find someone insane enough to attempt it in his stead. If he couldn't be Christopher Columbus, then he would be the power hungry monarchs that financed his travels.
Imagine his luck when his answer was a lot closer than he previously thought. His salvation came in the form of his talented first mate Jon. Whilst he looked rough around the edges, the sailor was quite intelligent, if the way he took to Beor's new inventions were any indication.
For ever the daredevil, the man had been one of the most capable sailors on the island often making the trip between the Mormont lands to the houses further South, all the way across the Narrow Sea to Tyrosh and beyond, the trip often taking a whole tear or two.
" In the past ten years, my lord, I've spent more time on water than on land" he said to Beor, as he laughed boisterously, " That's why I drink so much on land, the swaying reminds me of my true love."
The dark haired man hadn't even hesitated when Beor had come to him about his idea. Where most people would have called the idea suicidal, the sailor's eyes were gleaming, as if he already saw himself braving the treacherous Western Sea.
"It'll be dangerous, Jon." Beor had said, leaning back in his seat, to the man sitting across him, sipping tea on the lord's solar.
"No doubt about it, my lord", he had said, not even blinking.
"You'd be sailing blindly, into the unknown."
"Eh, I've done worse. Have you seen the brothels in the North?" he answered, all the while laughing.
All Beor could do was shake his head.
"As far as we know, no one as ever accomplished this feat. It's a literal do or die situation.", Beor retorted, a serious look on his face. "I want you to really think about what you're signing up for, Jon. This is no laughing matter."
The older man leaned back in his seat, and took a sip of his steaming looked back at his lord, a sad look on his face and said: " You know, Lord Mormont, my pa' was just a fisherman, like most of the men where we lived in a small hamlet on the northern coast. He was a hard man, but he was a good man, he took care of us, my ma' and I. Even when the fever took her, he never once broke down , just carried on with his life."
His green gaze was lost in the stained glass window, as his mind took him back tp his youth. "I used to ask him, Pa', why do you not cry even when bad things happen?- I must have been just a wee lad back then-, And he would answer: Jon, my boy the gods give every man his burden to carry, once you understand that, you'll see that crying and whining will not help at all. A good man carries his load until he can rest. And there is no rest until the death embraces us.
He chuckled sadly at the memory, before looking back at his lord. "For the longest time, I believed him, lived my life taking the good or bad in stride, as the gods had chosen eons before my first breath. I believed all that, until I met you, my lord."
"Until you met me?" Beor asked the sailor, his curiosity picked. saying
"Aye, my lord", he answered, his eyes shining with an emotion that the Mormont couldn't quite place. "You've shown that there was more to my life than be a a simple sailor from Bear Island. If anyone had told my pa' that his son would've been sailing all the way to the Shivering Sea, he would've grunted, really loudly." He said, a serious look on his face.
"Grunted?", Beor asked, puzzled, "What do you mean grunted? Surely you mean..."
"No my lord, I mean, grunted. The man never laughed.", Jon answered, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He took another sip of his tea then continued with his train of thought.
" All I'm trying to say, Lord Mormont, is that you made my life worth more than I ever thought it would. I'm a rich man, who has seen the world and its wonders. For that, I can never thank you enough." He said standing up from his chair, before kneeling on one knee in front of his Lord, and bowed his head.
"If what it takes to show my gratitude is to sail across the Western Sea in your name, then this is the least I can do. My skills and my life are yours. I will give my life to see your dreams fulfilled, my lord."
Beor stood up from behind the desk and made his way to the man. He had always known that Jon had great admiration for him, he had been told as much by the man himself.
But seeing this kind of loyalty from the older man did warm his heart. He put his hand on the sailor's shoulder, kneeling to meet his eyes.
"Jon, my man, I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live and tell me stories of the lands you will have seen in your trip. I want you to go and return to me, for I know now that you will succeed in your quest. Your lord orders so."
They stayed there for a moment, until a sniffle broke the quiet atmosphere.
"Are you crying?" Beor asked, a teasing smile on his face.
"No", Jon answered, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Are you lying to your Lord, Ser Jon?
"My lord, I would never.." he began, before the words registered. Tears ran down his cheeks in earnest, this time.
"I'm not a knight, my lord, nor a noble, I-I... I cannot be a knight."
" Come, now, Jon. You have shown me more initiative, loyalty and bravery than any knight I have ever met, bar Ser Barristan himself. You deserve it and more" he said, lifting the man to his feet. "Besides, my emissary deserves a title of his own, don't you think?", he said, a soft smile on his face.
Ser Jon, formerly Jon the sailor, was at a loss for words. He had always respected the young lord, admired him even, but now, as he looked at him, he could think but be honoured to be in the service of such a great man.
"Come now, my friend. We've got a lot to talk about." His liege lord had said, already all businesslike.
That has been two years ago. With two improved versions of the frigates, outfitted to be early man-of-war, they had multiple naval drills, sailing successfully to Lonely Light on two or three occasions. Jon jumped head first into his new mission, recruiting talented and trustworthy men, learning every kink and curves from the massive ships. He was already a very experienced sailor, and by the end of the preparation period, he knew more about the ships than Beor himself.
Then one day, with great fanfare, he left to conquer the great unknown. And a year later, Beor was still waiting. He had faith in his men abilities to brave the western waters, he knew they were the best this land had to offer. However, those were uncharted seas, and the gods only knew what kind of sick monsters and creatures were lurking in there. One learned to fear the sick mind of GRRM.
"Look at you, my little bear. You're so strong and handsome.", Maege was cooing and fussing about her son, as he got ready for the celebrations later that day
"Mother, I'm not so little anymore, am I?", Beor teased, looking down at his mother, a smug smile on his face. He now stood almost two feet taller than her. As a general rule, he was usually the tallest in whatever room he found himself, although the likes of the Mountain still towered above him.
More than being a giant of a man, he shared little with other adolescents his age. Where he had once been tall and built, he was now an absolute unit, his back rippling with muscles, arms and legs built like tree trunks. A few years ago, he had look unbalanced, as his body was still coming into its own, now however, no one would mistake him for child. He even could grow a magnificent beard, though he preferred to keep it trimmed as it was easier to maintain cleanliness.
Of course with this maturity came other changes. For once, his temper had grown thunderous. He could control himself most of the time, and was generally amiable and mellow person, but when he trained or sparred with others, it became harder and harder to snap out of the fog of war. It didn't take long for Dacey to ban him from the training yards for fear of him eating someone alive.
He also developed ravenous... appetites. It stood to reason that it took an ungodly amount of food to satiate him, seeing his size and mass. Some days he would even eat about a third of his weight in meat and vegetables. On the bright side, once he was full, he could go up to a week and a half without experience much hunger, though he never really had to deprive himself unless he got lost into one of his little projects.
Beyond that, he also discovered that he had quite the impressive libido. It began when he turned ten and four, and it got worse and worse every single day. He, of course, had tried to ignore those urges, at first, but he could inly resist for so long. Luckily, he was a fabulously wealthy and good looking lord. Let's just say that he hadn't much an issue with finding women willing to jump into his bed.
Obviously, he preferred to keep his romps discreet, mostly partaking when he was away on business trips or only with some of his "regulars", on Bear Island. Of course, he hadn't taken long for Maege to sniff him out, especially when a few maids and ladies in waiting started walking funny around the castle.
She hadn't been mad, but begged him to be careful not to father any bastards, and to watch where he sticks his meat, as some lords weren't above using vile means in order to tie promising young highborn to their houses.
Never in his life would Beor have thought that his pull out game would've ever been so strong.
"I suppose you're not quite so little anymore, yes" his mother said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She was looking at him with a proud look on her face. 'He had grown so much', she thought sadly to herself.
"Indeed, my son, you are a big man, now", she said, running her hands absently on his black doublet, a pensive look on her face. "Have you thought about a betrothal yet? Dacey and Alysanne have already given me grandchildren, it's time you get a wife and children of your own, don't you think?"
"Mother", Beor said, suppressing an eyeroll, "must we go through this again?"
" I know, I know", Maege said, backing off a bit. "it's just that.. A mother worries, Beor, it's what we do. I thought at first that you had, erm, different proclivities, seeing how much time you spend with Lowry down in that odd study of yours, but thankfully it turned out not to be the case. You are a normal boy, with the pick of the litter, why don't you find yourself a good woman and give me beautiful babies? she finished a knowing look on her face. " Don't worry about being too big down there, a good wife will do her best to accommodate you.
"Mother!", Beor exclaimed outraged at where the conversation was going.
"Of course, it'll take effort to get use to it, but trust me, she'll get used to it."
"Mother, enough!" he huffed, exasperated, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true emotions.
"Oh, enough, you prude!", she said, laughing, I've given you enough showers to know what you look like down there. That and the fact that I have walked in on you making a mess out of some poor girl in places that left me utterly confused, I must say. Like for example..."
"Have you come here to torture me, mother?" Beor asked, cutting her off, as he stepped away, pouting, arms crossed against his chest. "You promised we would never talk of this again."
"Fine, I'll stop." Maege said, raising her hand in a placating manner. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. You're so perfect all the time when you're doing any stupid thing." She continued, letting out a quiet laugh. " But you will think about it, yes?"
"Yes, mother I will." Beor answered, eager for this conversation to be over.
"Promise?"
"I do, mother, you have my word."
" Good", was all she said before heading for the door. "Come now, the lords and ladies are waiting on us. It would be improper to have Lord Stark alone on the high table."
"Actually, mother, I did have one in mind" Beor said, walking behind her, as they left the room.
"Oh, do you now?" Maege asked teasingly. "and who is the lucky woman?"
"Sansa Stark."
That stopped her right in her tracks. She turned back to her son, who stood only a few steps behind her.
He had expected her to be angry, to berate him as she often did when his pride turned into arrogance. But all she gave him as an outwards show of emotion was a knowing smirk.
"I expected nothing less from my son", she said, stepping towards him and squeezing his hand warmly.
Beor looked at her, puzzled by the reaction. She had always been the one to curtail his excesses, and he had well expected her to at least require some convincing before getting her support and approval.
"What no mace, or slaps or sanctimonious speeches about my place in the world? he asked, eyebrow raised.
"First, of all", Maege answered, "I do not give sanctimonious speeches. The rest is exactly what you deserve. However this time, I am just glad this is a scheme I can help you with. These are so few and far between", she finished, almost sounding giddy at the idea.
"Well, it's not much a scheme, is it?"
"Not really", she admitted, "But the feeling still stands. The Starks are kin to us anyway, through Lyarra Mormont. She did married a Stark."
"So you approve, right?", Beor asked, almost perplexed by her enthusiasm.
"Of course, son. Marrying a Stark would be a great honour for our family. This is a most noble goal to achieve.", she said intertwining her arm to his. "However it won't be easy. Sansa Stark is said to be a great beauty, though young, and her Lady Stark surely will look South to find matches for her."
Beor looked on, a pensive look on his face. " What do you propose we do, then?", he asked, "We're clearly not a Southern House."
His mother barely stopped herself from furiously rolling her eyes. "I know that, you donkey", she said, pinching him, "But we are useful to the Starks much more useful than any house in the Seven Kingdoms."
"Elaborate, please."
"We, well, you are fabulously rich. I have seen so much gold in the past five years that I am sick of the thing already. We have shared that wealth with the North. The Glovers and the Karstarks are richer than ever, the Starks receive much more taxes from us than the whole North combined.
House Mormont has always been one of the loyal to the Starks. It puts us in a great position to discuss this matter with Lord Stark."
" Hmm, maybe we can work to make our houses even closer then." Beor said, stroking his chin, as they walked down a larger hallway, with the walls adorned with great portrait and tapestries.
"Hmm, how so?"
"I can offer to foster his son, Rob, for example."
" You refuse so many offers to foster heirs, though. I thought you were against the idea, honestly."
"I did so because I had nothing to gain from it." Beor said, dismissively. "I have plenty to gain from this, however."
"Fair enough, then", Maege said. "I will bring the matter to him at once."
"Please do so, then." Beor said, smiling softly at his mother. "If you want me to be present I shall be there as well."
"No, I'd rather not." she retorted, smirking, "You're bound to say something stupid."
"Hey!", he exclaimed, eliciting a string of laughter from his mother.
They came to slow pace as they approached the Great Hall.
"Ready?" Maege asked him.
"Always have been, mother.", he answered as he motioned to the herald standing by the doorway.
The large double doors opened slowly, as the man announced in a loud voice: "Presenting the Honourable Lady Maege Mormont, lady of Bear Island, and the Honourable Lord Beor Mormont, Lord of Sea Dragon Point, and Heir to Bear Island!
Beor looked down at her mother at that, as she only looked on, a smug smile on her face.
'Who said Northerners weren't schemers again?' Beor thought to himself, as he took in the large room assembled for his nameday.
The Great Hall was positively massive, separate from the new castle itself, made explicitly made for this type of celebrations.
Close to two hundred nobles and knights from all over the North and The Seven Kingdoms had made the trip to celebrate with him. Eddard Stark and his wife, Catelyn were seated in the position of honour at the high table, him looking as venerable and quiet as he often did, her regal and beautiful, looking as she was described in the books whilst also resembling Michelle Fairley.
It was bizarre, really, like he was looking at her younger cousin.
Further down Leech Lord could be seen, seating with his back straight, a eerie air to him, with his pale skin, unhealthily so, his ghostly grey eyes calming scanning the large room. His son Domeric sat by him, a quiet look to him, though he looked slightly uncomfortable in the giving the solemn atmosphere in the room.
He also saw Harrion and Dacey, his sister, fussing about a dark hair boy, a slight baby bump rounding up her blue dress. He was saddened by the fact Alysanne couldn't attend, but it was understandable due to advanced state of her pregnancy.
She had met Uthred Umber, second son of Lord Umber a couple years back and had pretty much bullied the poor man into marrying her, not that the Umber seem to mind all that much.
In view of those two happy marriages, Beor wasn't surprised that his mother had taken to pressuring him into finding a wife of his own. He was relieved that Lyanna was only five years old, otherwise he was sure the poor thing would've been married already.
Beor could make out plenty of other familiar faces, including a little blond man who was in the process of chatting up a group of Riverlanders sipping in his drink once in whilst. He was glad Tyrion could make it. It had been almost five years since the last time they had last seen each other. They had kept a correspondence, and it seemed that the diminutive Lannister had changed for the better, considering what he had told him in their letters.
After confronting Jaime about Tysha, he had gone around, doing some digging. Unfortunately, the woman's trail had gone cold. She had just vanished, either to a foreign port, or joined the Faith as a mean to keep away from the traumatic memory of that night.
On the bright side, however, the event had forged the Lannister into a more independent mind, often accompanying his uncle Gerion on his trip to Essos. The man had taken inspiration from his Mormont friend and had even established his own trading company, though he only traded in books and expensive wines, which allowed him to almost corner such a niche market. Beor was simply relieved and happy that his little gambit had not changed the man for the worst, and even seemed to make into a more competent and balanced person.
The dying light of the sun beamed through the stained glass windows as Beor and his mother made their way up the steps to the high table, and after few cordial words and even fewer bows, they settled in their seats, before Eddard declared the feast began.
The night was truly a success. Beverages, meats abounded, and great music played. Try as he might, Beor could never get used to the songs of Westeros. Everything sounded the same and only the five or six same songs were played on loop.
So he took it upon himself to upon himself to write down as many songs as he could, mostly from his childhood and from movies he liked, and had them adapted to the instruments of the age.
It was bizarre to hear the Beatles being played on the lyre and the harp, but he was glad to at least have something to enjoy besides the dreaded "Rains of Castamere".
He was glad to see the lords and ladies take to the new songs, though it saddened him that they will never experience anything to the level of Chopin or Beethoven But hey, beggars can't be choosers.
The night was going nicely, perfectly even, which why Beor should've expected for something to sour his mood. He was in the middle of a quiet conversation with Lady Stark about flowers from the Riverlands of all things when the herald announced a name that turned every drop of blood in his body into ice.
"Announcing Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of the Coin of his Grace Robert Baratheon...
The man continued to speak in the background but all he could hear was his heart pounding into his ears as a short man smartly dressed, walked into the room as if he owned the place. His nicely trimmed salt and pepper hair framed his slender face where a smile was planted, although Beor noticed it didn't rich his grey green catlike eyes.
He stepped lightly in front of the high table, and bowed deeply to lord Stark.
"My lords, my ladies", he began in a sing-songy voice, "apologies for being late to this fine celebration. I have been riding day and night from White Arbor to finally lay my eye upon one of the wonders of the world." He said so as his gaze fleetingly passed over Catelyn Stark, who was all smile at the sight of her childhood friend.
"It is quite a beautiful castle and city you have built, my lord" he said turning to Beor himself. "Truly the rumors about you, however absurd as they might sound appear to be nonetheless true."
"Why, thank you, my lord Baelish." Beor said, smiling softly at the man. "I must admit, it is quite the surprise that a member of the small council is here all the way from Kingslanding. To what do I owe this undue honour?"
"I am here in my capacity as the Master of Coin to discuss a matter from the king himself. Although, I was appointed less than two moons ago. I was quite surprised to be introduced as such, I must say." He said, his eyes firmly fixed on the Mormont lord.
Beor smirked at him." My lord Baelish, I would be remiss if you weren't presented by your proper titles".
"Son", Maege said, putting a hand on Beor's arm. "Lord Baelish has had a long and arduous road, surely these talks can wait tomorrow. Let us all rejoice and rest in such a joyous occasion. Work will still be there in the morning, I can assure you."
"Indeed, mother, you are correct. Lord Baelish, please accept my hospitality. I will send for you first thing in the morning, where we will discuss this matter you have come so long for." he dismissed him coldly as he took a sip of his drink, his amber gold eyes staring down the man.
The only tell of Petyr stated of mind was the slight twitch of his nose, but Beor saw it for what it was. The man was incensed, and Beor enjoyed every second of it. He knew better than antagonize a man like Baelish, but when looking at the devil in the eyes, it was difficult not to sneer. The man, in his ambition will cause the death of untold thousands, after all.
"Very well, if you need anything, a servant will guide you to quarters prepared for you."
"Thank you, my lord", he responded, schooling his features, his stupid smile still plastered on his face. 'I shall see you in the morning then. May this fortuitous occasion be the door to interesting times for you and your family." he finished, his tone sickly sweet, before turning away and leaving the great hall, as the festivities started anew around him.
Beor calmly looked at the man leave, his brain firing plans and ideas, on how to deal with the annoying pest that made its way into his den, before simply turning to Lady Stark, resuming their conversation.
"Lord Baelish did foster at Riverrun, didn't he, my lady?" he asked, as she nodded kindly, looking to where the man at left the room.
"Aye, Lord Beor. Growing up we were friends, Lysa, Petyr and I, nearly inseparable. I have very fond memories of him as one of my oldest friends."
"Aye, it's refreshing, I must admit, to see a man achieve his ambitions despite the odds stacked against him."
"Petyr, you mean? she asked.
"Indeed, he came from a small house in the Vale, didn't he?" he continued at Catelyn's nod. " To see him now as Master of Coin, I cannot help but wonder how similar our stories are."
Catelyn chuckled at that. It was beautiful, crystalline sound. "Humility doesn't not suit you, Lord Beor. You are made from a great mold. Look at what you have accomplished at such a young age.", she said, giving a warm smile, patting his arm. "Be proud of your accomplishments, my dear. The gods know my lord husband is, He speaks often of you, as a father would of a successful son. It's funny to witness, I will say.
Beor could not contain his smile at that. "I am honoured to be the subject of praise from the Lord Paramount himself."
"As you should", she said, a cheeky smile on he face.
Beor glanced to the side to see his mother talking to Lord Stark. He could clearly hear what they were saying, though they were not speaking loudly at all. He supposed Stark really was a quiet one.
" Your son is nearly twelve isn't he? It's high time he got to see the world, my lord. I reckon spending sometimes with my son if you ask me.
After all he is shaping up to be one of his most important bannermen in the future."
" Yes, I have thought of that, as a matter of fact", Eddard answered, his voice calm and composed, " But there's the matter of my other son Jon. They are really close to each other. I couldn't bear to separate them. Not until they are ready."
" Spoken like a true father, my liege", Maege laughed. "Well then, I think there is a simple solution. Send the boys, both of them. Might give you some peace for a while. It's never easy to live with that kind of strain to one's marriage, especially for a man such as yourself.
And who knows, maybe the boy will find his way here with my Beor. There is a lot of work to do on Bear Island and Sea Dragon Point. He has seen personally seen to that."
Ned didn't answer automatically, mulling over the proposal. After taking a sip of his aged whisky- from Beor's personal cellar-, relented," Very well, then... I shall speak to my lady wife about this. She can be really protective of the children", he finished chuckling.
"Aren't we all, my lord. It's a disease afflicting all mothers. Bound to protect our children, even from themselves." Beor wasn't looking at them specifically, as he was still talking with lady Stark, but he could his mother's stare burrowing in the back of his skull.
'At least, that's an issue settled', he thought. 'That was a lot simpler than I expected. I suppose Northerners are really a direct people.'
Petyr Baelish was not a happy man. Based on his circumstances, he should've been, but he wasn't.
Not two months ago, he had been appointed Master of Coin by the Lord Hand himself. After years of sucking up to snooty nobles, self aggrandizing horse riders, a fair bit of bribing and back stabbing, he had finally made to the next step of the ladder. He was now one of the most important men of the Realm, holding in his hands a nigh unlimited amount of gold and silver to do pretty much as he pleased.
They wouldn't catch him, they never did. They weren't smart enough, all, men of low cunning born with the right name insuring them power and fortune.
If he was so powerful and important, he had to ask himself why a boy of ten and six from some backwater Northern House was summoning him at the crack of dawn to discuss "whatever matter it was they had to discuss"?
Of course, he already knew the answer. It's because that boy was Beor Mormont, nominally the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms. He had suddenly appeared on the map a scant five years ago and made a name for himself at a mere ten and one fighting in a war he had no business fighting.
Ever since, the name Mormont was known everywhere, from the cold recesses of Castle Black to the sweltering deserts of Dorne.
When the boy had become a household name, he had barely paid attention to it. He had had a low opinion of the Mormont, then, thinking of him as just another barbarian, born from a barbarian with little wit to go with all the brawn he had been blessed with.
However years after the war, Beor Mormont was nigh ubiquitous. The boy not only was a fine soldier, but he seemed to be also very industrious, already commanding a fleet of ships the likes of which he had never seen before, selling his products as far as Ibben to the North, and Quarth and Mereen to the East.
All this traffic and the speed at which it was made had made the Mormont fabulously rich, so rich in fact that he had made himself impossible to ignore.
The day he got appointed to his new position, he was tasked to negotiate with a certain Beor Mormont a propos a certain loan by Lord Arryn. According to the old sack of bones, the Northerner was the nominal creditor to the crown, thanks to a silent partnership with the Iron Bank.
This is when the gears in his head started turning. This was no coincidence. Owning the debt of the Crown would paint a target so bright on one's back that it would impossible for it to go unnoticed. Only an idiot with too much money or a cunning man with a plan would take on such dangerous endeavours.
As he followed a well dressed servant through the halls of Bear's Den- How creative, he thought amusingly- he couldn't shake the feeling that this Mormont was someone to be kept close, as one does with their enemies.
They arrived in front of a large Ironwood door, guarded by guards armed with halberds and wearing full plate armor- steel, if he wasn't mistaken-. The servant knocked gently at the door, before he entered, emerging a few second later before announcing that the lord will see him now.
He walked into Beor Mormont's study. Well, study was a euphemism. The room was quite large, with a black marble floor, the walls lined with shelves filled with books , some looking fairly new, others in glass alcoves, looking as old as a book could look. Further into the room were what Petyr would describe as weights, maybe? Rows and rows of metallic disks, all of them looking quite hefty. There were simple shiny bars of metal just resting on the wall, besides what looked like large leather bags hanging from the wall.
The change of atmosphere was quite jarring to the Master of coins, as he had never seen such contraptions anywhere in his life, especially not in a lord's study next to priceless tomes.
As approached the large desk, he noticed four words carved in gold adorning the wall behind it, placed in such a way that it would be directly behind the Lord ig he were seated in his usual place.
'Wisdom, integrity, justice and pride', it says, the only openly luxurious thing in the whole study.
' How sweet', the Master of Coin thought, looking at the large inscription. 'The little lord is a man of virtue. Weaknesses, the lot of them. Maybe we are not so similar after all.'
As he stood there, a door to the side, that he hadn't noticed before,
opened, only for the giant of a Mormont to walk in, followed by a small blond man as they laughed about some subject.
'The imp of Casterly Rock', Petyr, thought as he recognized the diminutive man.
"Ah, lord Baelish!", The Mormont said, attracting his attention, "So good of you to come in at such an early time. I trust you have found the quarters given to you acceptable."
He spoke with a deep smooth voice, like oil running on the edge of a great sword, his gaze not leaving his interlocutor one instant.
"Of course, Lord Mormont, I was delighted at the accommodations in my chambers." He said, hoping he was lying. The chambers were simple yet smartly decorated, the whole thing giving an air of simple luxury, a far cry from the gaudy try hard look he expected from a man that just came into a fortune like Beor Mormont did.
"I'm glad, very glad indeed", he said, whilst offering the man a chair. "Have you met my dear friend, Tyrion Lannister, my lord?"
"I have not had the pleasure, but everyone has heard of my lord Lannister one way or another."
"It is a pleasure, lord Baelish. I have heard a lot about you", said the Lannister simply.
"Oh, good things I hope, my lord?", Baelish asked, now more comfortable in those situations.
"Great things, even my lord.", Tyrion said, although he didn't elaborate any further.
They sat there for a moment, the quiet suddenly reminding him how massive the room was.
The Mormont was sitting at his desk, looking at him, a placid look, on his face. 'Stupid powerplays', Petyr thought, aware that they both knew what was happening.
"My lord Mormont..", the Master of Coin began.
"Beor."
"Beg your pardon?"
" Call me Beor, lord Petyr." 'uh, alright then.', he thought, slightly confused.
"Lord Beor, then.", he said, clearing his throat.
"Look at us, we're quickly becoming fast friends." the child interrupted him again, " I've never been friends with a master of coin before", he mulled out loud. "Have you?" he asked, turning to Tyrion.
"Afraid not, Mormont. You truly are the most sought after bachelor in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion answered, who was in the process of climbing on a stool to reach a book from were it sat.
"Oh stop it, you flatterer.", Beor said demurely, an act that looked almost comical with his giant frame and deep voice.
'Did I walk into a mummer's play? What is this?' Petyr thought to himself, schooling his features so not to give away his annoyance.
"Lord Beor", he said a little bit forcefully, "I am here in my capacity as the Master of Coin as ordered by the Lord Hand himself."
"Very well, then, and how may I assist you, Master of Coin?", he asked, now completely serious, his golden eyes set on the short man. "Have you come to pay what I am owed?
"No, my lord", Petyr said, looking away from the Mormont, unable to maintain his gaze.
"A shame, then. When I bought the debt as an act of love for my king, I did not expect it to be such a sore spot in my books."
"I quite understand, my lord Beor, three millions gold dragons is a large sum."
" Three million two hundred and seventy thousand gold dragons, to be exact, at a three per cent annual interest rate, for three years, now."
"Yes of course, my lord."
" So if you are not here to lessen the Crown's debt, Lord Master of Coin, how may I be of assistance?
"The Crown is in need of funds, my lord, and with you being the largest creditor of the Crown on Westerosi soil, The Lord Hand has seen it fit to request another advance, expecting your good will, of course."
"The Lord Hand is expecting good will from me?" the Mormont asked calmly, as he made his was to a cabinet by the side of the room, fishing out a large bowl of fruits which seem to be... cold?, before sitting down again, setting the fruits between the two of them.
"Do you know, Lord Petyr, the business I am in?"
" You are a merchant, no?"
"Close, but no cigar", was the answer he received. 'What an odd man', he thought.
"I'm in the business of delivery, Lord Petyr. My clients expect a product to be delivered at a certain time, and I make it my priority to make sure said product arrive in time.
In my field of work, speed, security and efficiency are the words by which I live. My boats are fast, secure and efficient, which result in happy and satisfied customers."
"I see", Petyr said.
"Point is, satisfied customers don't expect me to live off of good will, alone. So my question is, "Is the Crown not satisfied with my services?" He almost sounded sad, as he popped a berry in his mouth. "I ferry their product faster and further than anything before, at a discounted price, I keep the Crown as my priority client when it comes to food stuff and most other items.
I even do a bit of cleaning up when my boat encounters unfortunate pirates. That is without taking into account my wrestling of the Crown's debt away from the Iron Bank. I fail to understand. Help me understand, Lord Baelish."
'Shit', Baelish thought, 'He's good, he's really good."
"My lord, I'm sure the Crown is more than satisfied with the various ways in which you have served it..."
"Then why does the Crown want me to live off of good will?" The Mormont Lord asked him.
Lord Baelish at that instant felt like a noose was tightening around his neck. He had nothing against the young Lord, nothing useful anyway. In this moment, he saw himself as the Lord saw him. A beggar.
"I do understand your circumstances, my lord, but The Crown is still in needs of funds. The Lord Hand himself ordered me to Bear Island post haste, as soon as I appointed.", he said, desperation slowly seeping in his voice.
"That sounds oddly like a test, doesn't, Lord Beor?", Tyrion asked from where he was seated, nose still buried in the tome he was leafing through.
"It does, indeed, my friend." Beor asked popping another berry into his mouth. "It seems your new office rests on whether or not you succeed in this endeavour, Lord Petyr." He continued, now addressing the Master of Coin.
There it was. The trap was sprung, he could feel it in his bones. What was it going to take? Bribes? Women? Spies at court? He had no cards to play against an enemy he couldn't sway, an enemy who hasn't shown any outward enmity towards him or the Crown. Managing to make himself look like the victim in a situation where no one was legitimately a loser was hard to accomplish, especially for a lord who seemed to value his pride.
'This man is dangerous', he thought, wiping the slight transpiration on his brow.
"But where are my manners, Lord Petyr. I haven't even offered you any beverages. Please do not tell my mother, I would never hear the end of it" The Mormont said winking at him, as he poured him chilled water in a fancy crystal glass.
"Thank you, my lord Mormont", Petyr said, bringing the glass to his lip and tasting the cold liquid, taking his time to control his breath.
"It's my pleasure, Lord Petyr. And please, call me, Beor. You must." He said, settling right besides him, Baelish sitting in his rather comfortable seat, and Beor leaning on the desk, standing right next to him, looking down at the man.
"Of course, Lord Beor."
" Now, let us go back to our little conundrum, shall we? You want to keep your new found fortune and the privileges that come with it. Correct?
"Correct", the short man said, dropping the act.
"And to do so you have to secure a loan from me, you say?
"That is also correct, my lord.", he answered simply, looking at the glass cupped in his hands.
"Petyr, look at me", The Mormont said, almost in a fatherly voice, the dropped title causing the man to perk up and look at the younger lord.
"You have worked hard to get where you are now, haven't you? A lord from a small holding somewhere in the Vale, now Master of Coin. You ought to be proud of yourself."
"My lord.."
"Beor.."
"B-Beor... Yes, I have worked hard day and night to be where I am now. I wasn't born rich nor powerful. I had to work and earn everything I have now."
"Yet the Hand of the King, and your Liege Lord sent you to accomplish something he probably knows is highly unlikely to succeed."
"It appears he has.", Petyr said, standing up, ready to at least leave with his dignity intact.
"Sit", Beor said in a tone that did not leave room for debate. So Petyr sat.
Beor poured himself a drink, downing it in one go. "I've had my eye on you, Petyr. Ever since you were made in charge of the ports of Gulltown. You made quite the impression on my friend, over there.
What was it Tyrion? six fold? Maybe eight?"
"Tenfold, Beor, ten." The dwarf answered, still seemingly paying no mind to the conversation.
"Tenfold. You increased revenues by is quite impressive, indeed. It seems your patron, the Lady Arryn was right to put her faith in you." He said smirking at the way his eyes widened.
"Whatever others may say about you, Petyr, you deserve every single thing you have and will have in the future. I will give you your loan, from one upstart to another." He finished a smile, looking down at the man from where he was sitting.
Lord Baelish was confused. He thought for sure that he would be going back to Kingslanding empty handed. He wasn't sure how, but he was already thinking of contingencies to keep his newly gained office. But here was the man, offering him salvation, all out the goodness of his heart?
"Erm... You will?"
"Of course... It'd be a shame to see such talent go to waste, my dear friend. The Realm is in dire need of intelligent man like you and I. I expect great things from you, Petyr. Consider this loan a token of my admiration for your hard work and dedication to your craft."
"And what do you want in return, Lord Beor? Or are you doing this out of the kindness of your heart?"
The Mormont had the gall the loom smug. "You haven't been listening, have you? I'm not a godly man, Petyr. Due to my weak constitution, I find it hard to survive on good will and wishes.
Lord Arryn set you up for failure, and I just saved your hide. I won't ask for loyalty. We both know you'll betray me the second your sails catch better winds.
I only ask two things. First, I want my money back in five years. I don't care how you do it, but figure it out. And secondly, do be careful with who and where you do your machinations. Let's say you leave the North alone, yes? What do you think?" The young lord said, as he walked behind the Master of Coin, and rested his hands on the shorter man's shoulders.
"M-my Lord?...", Baelish began.
"Knowledge is power, Petyr, and I know... I know a lot." he said squeezing his shoulders.
"As I said, do be careful. You're not always as subtle as you think you are. Maybe stay away from Lady Arryn for a little while? I can't imagine how Lord Arryn might feel about the nature of your... amity with his lady wife."
Baelish felt the blood drain from his face. He attempted to turn to face Beor, but he found himself rooted in place, unable to even budge from his seat.
He turned his head to the side to where the Lannister was seated, only to see him still engrossed with whatever it was he was reading.
"What say you, Petyr? I would say these are fair terms, wouldn't you agree? The Mormont said, squeezing just a tad harder, causing the Master of Coin to wince a tad harder.
"Yes, my lord Mormont, I do agree."
"I did tell you to call me Beor, haven't I?
"I'm sorry, my lord, it doesn't sound right."
Petyr felt the pressure on his collarbone lessen.
The lord walked back on his own side of the desk before seating down, drawing a large folder, with two copies of a contract.
"Shame, I shall continue to call you Petyr. Can I call you Petyr?
"Of course, yes" he muttered, wiping his brow again with a trembling hands.
"Very well, then. This is the contract, read it at your leisure. Later, or in the morrow, we shall sign it unless any matter does occur. Is that to your pleasure, Master of Coin?
With all the turmoil in which he was, he did not trust his voice to speak. All he could do was nod and and gulp down his water.
"Nicely done, then, it was a pleasure to..."
Before he could finish, a servant burst through the door, out of breath, bowing and apologizing his way to the Heir of Bear Island.
With a motion of his fingers, Beor commanded to servant to come forward. The man came closed to him, and whispered something into his lord's ear. Whatever news it was caused the lord's face to brighten, a wide and genuine smile plastered over his face.
"Apologies, Petyr, it seems I have some urgent matter to attend to. I'm afraid we have to cut our little meeting short.", he said as he hurryingly put his large coat on, the Lannister dwarf quickly following suite.
" Jonah here will show you back to your chambers."
"Of course, my lord."
Beor stopped a moment, turning back to the small Valeman. " Say, Petyr, do you know what happened to the last Master of Coin?"
Baelish felt his heartbeat quicken. How? How did he know...
"He died, my lord. Horse accident.
"Hmm, it's a shame. I heard he was a good man." Beor said, turning to leave the room as the servant ushered him back to his quarters, further deep into the belly of the beast.
"Well, you did play a number on the poor man, don't you think?" Tyrion asked, as they made their way to the docks, the crowd slowly parting to give them way.
"I had to to, this was a preemptive attack. The type of man Petyr is doesn't do well with a loose chain."
"A trapped animal will gnaw his own limb off if it's be a mean to escape." Tyrion said.
"Not when the leash his tight around his balls. Either way, he would hurt himself much more than he would me."
"Well, I trust you know what you're doing. But how did you know all those things about him? You've never even been to Gulltown. And how did you know I knew?" the Lannister asked, his mismatched eyes narrowing.
"I could tell you, brother, but then I'd have to kill you", Beor said with a straight face, catching the dwarf off guard, before laughing when he saw the way the man had reacted.
"I'm joking. I could never kill you. Severely maim you maybe..." Beor said, looking back to the road, as they entered the port.
"So why are we here again?" Tyrion asked, from atop of his horse to the Mormont who had dismounted, pulling a monocular from his coat.
"We're here to witness history, my friend", Beor answered with a smile on face as he looked through the telescope. "Here, see for yourself", he said handing him to long object.
"And what am I supposed to look for?"
"You'll know when you see it"
The Lannister looked into the field glass, his vision warping, until he saw two small objects to the South, in the horizon, two ships with large green sails bearing the sigil of House Mormont.
"Impossible" he muttered.
"The son of a bitch did it, my friend. He circumnavigated the oceans.
There we go. Win on win for Beor Mormont, in this chapter, as we slowly head towards cannon. If you hadn't noticed yet, this will be AU all the way.
I went back and edited a few mistakes, let me know if you find others.
Comment your thoughts and all the other things.
Cheers.
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