[IMVU Logs] Castle of Winterfell

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Biird: ‘You shouldn’t be taking Rhaegar, he is too small. Leave my grandson with me.’ The great Lady Eirlys Baratheon’s deep, bassy voice rang in Rhaelle’s ears. The woman was two sides of a coin constantly being flipped. The uproar she’d made over the small child, asleep in the loop of her arms, was equaled only by the protectiveness she’d shown once the bastard boy was born. Rhaegar was three, a man, his mother often teased. He was the same age as her brother the first time they made the trek North and a year older than her. More than ready. The rolling gait of her heavily horned stag, had lulled the boy to sleep almost immediately. It was the last leg of the journey, started long before dawn, disturbing the little Lord’s usual routine of sleep. Like his mother, he made no sound of discomfort and hadn’t complained once since leaving his home for the harsher terrains and bitter cold. Castle Winterfell came to loom over them just as the sun began rise. The years of turmoil were etched into the hard stone walls. Years that were only whispered about lately. After the return of Rickon during The Storm’s Taking, the North had taken a complete turn. They had run back to their former glory with a fever, but the castle still worn it’s scars like the hard lines of a great old maester’s face. When her stag’s hoove clomped down on cobble stone for the first time in days, Rhaelle pulled firmly on the reigns causing the great beast to pull to a grunting stop. Curling an arm around the child against her chest, she leaned forward a bit to pat the beast on his long neck before dismounting with the boy in her arms. He stirred, his large, round grey eyes were like stormy clouds chasing a dark sea, looked up at his mother. A small devilish smile crossed his sleepy face for a moment before he yawned long and stretched. “Mother.” His voice was soft and small. “Stand up. We have arrived.” Rhaelle answered. When his feet touched the cobble stone he stretched again, reaching right for his mother’s leg. She placed a hand on his shoulder and handed off the reigns of her rambunctious stag to a squire with fear in his eyes. “Ghost of old live here, don’t they?” Rhaegar queried following his mother. “Angry ones.” His mother answered. Her head turned then, hair black as the soul of a vengeful god slid across her sharp broad features as she looked to maester of the house who was absent his Lordship.                

Grimm: With a furrowed brow, the dark, fur coated silhouette of a crouched figure hidden behind shrubbery and a thicket of low hanging branches, watched his target against the hazed morning sunlight that barely crept through the overcast sky. The target, a large brown bear, sniffed the morning dewed air for signs of some form of threat or prey, though the hidden assailant stayed down wind, a common practiced for seasoned hunters and trackers alike. A crack of a branch in the distance however, caused the great beasts head to jolt before turning and retreating in the opposite direction to the disturbance of the morning symphony that usually consisted only of avian wildlife. With a curse the figure stood from his local, pulling down his furred hood to reveal a head of ablaze crimson locks and a heavy scar on his left cheek. An injury, that, if only a fraction higher, would have cost the male half his sight. Returning the notched arrow to the quiver upon his back and the bow looped over his arm and torso diagonally, the now revealed young Stark Lord cursed under his breath as he cast a rather irritated look in the direction of the fleeing bear, then a long dragged out head swivel to the direction the noise emanated. “This had better be important.” Jarik took off at a light jog back towards Winterfell castle, his strides fast and sure as expected from one heavily leaning towards his Wildling heritage and also aided in no small amount to his constant disappearing into the woods when studies should be his concern. It did not take long until he arrived at the entrance to Winterfell where his father still ruled, for now, though his reign quickly coming to a close. Adjusting his less than formal attire of furs and straps, the only thing denoting his station in any small amount being the well forged blade that clung strapped to his left hip, embroidered and marked with the sigil of his house. “You never were one for tact” Jarik tried to sound comical but he was genuinely irritated with his cousin for causing his prey to escape, the reason of which would surely come to light soon. The heavy gaze of the Eldest Stark broke to one of a little more sincerity as he saw his young cousin clutching to his mother’s leg. "I'm sure you are hungry"

Biird: Rhaegar’s brow furrowed at this cousin he'd never seen before. “Mother.” The one word held many meanings the child could not yet express. She didn’t answer him. Instead she steered him behind her leg and came closer to her cousin, while the great house came alive with movement. No doubt they were informing the still half-living Lord therein that there were guests amongst other things. “Ridiculous. You were too far in for our arrival to disturb whatever animal like behavior you were displaying in the wolfswood. Where is your father? Or have you finally been strapped to the chair in the maester’s stead long enough to take on his duties?” A cold wind swept through them, curling snow off the mounds on the ground and into dancing wisps in the air. The doors of the great house came open and the oldest maester of the house, with his hand welded chains about his waist and half handled in his hand, came through. He was a man of average height, his once lean build withering away under the tension of the weather and his long years. “M’lord. The house is prepared.” There was an underlying note that he had done this, it was his duty to do so, however anyone that knew the young wolf, knew that had it not been for the maester, Winterfell would have fallen into despair once more. Of course, Jarik’s mother was of no great help either. She was a wildling and probably not even present in the castle at the moment. At least Jarik was within a raven’s wing. Rhaelle didn’t wait for an invitation, she took toward the doors of the castle, Rhaegar in tow, nodding toward the maester, having known the man for all the years of her life. They had business to discuss and she needed to be off before day break following this day.

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Grimm: Rhaelle was the same 'matter-of-fact' person she had always been, straight to the point, no dilly dallying, very little small talk, though then again, pleasantries were not something Jarik was too comfortable with. A simple nod was always much preferred to a handshake, hug or long address of title and station. Letting the two lead the way, Jarik took up a position at the back, a few places behind, stopping only when he reached the Maester's side and conversed with him in low tones. "Is my father awake?" There was no verbal reply as the Maester just shook his head no with a pained look about his brow. Jarik knew just how much respect the old man had for his father and it was well earned from the stories he had been told growing up. Jarik could also see the minor irritation in the antics of the young lord in the Maester's eyes, but he held no less love for the boy; theirs was a complicated relationship. Moving towards the Great Hall of Winterfell, he passed by Rhaelle and the young boy who Jarik had never met, but the resemblance to his mother was striking. "My father is not well.." Jarik began as he stood in front of the large seat his father usually took, though did not place himself within it as the Maester moved and stood to the boys right and a few steps behind. A pained look crossed Jarik's face though he tried his most to gloss passed both topic and emotion as he continued his words. "What brings you to Winterfell, Rhaelle? I don't remember hearing about you coming..." The Maester stepped forward and placed his hand on the young Lord's shoulder, halting his speech before speaking. "She had an important matter to discuss with your father before his accident. Though current events make such impossible now. You should direct your inquiry to Lord Jarik hence forth." Such words left a pained tone in the Maester's voice and a wince upon the brow of Jarik though he stood tall with arms folded across his broad chest.

Biird: She stood taunt at the base of the great dais where lordship seats sat, feet shoulder with apart, arms relaxed at her sides though her fingers were curled. One hand drifting absently over the downy head of her only child, who, as always, was attached to her leg like some monkey. Meanwhile Jarik moved to the top of the dais, standing in front of his destiny and refusing to take it. In the moments waiting for the little wolf lord to come up to speed with information that had been sent weeks ago, Rhaelle managed to pry Rhaegar off of her leg and have him stand on his own. After a moment of staring at his mother, he took her pose. Once the boy wolf was up to speed, a nod motioned toward the maester, she shifted her stance, a hip jutted toward the dark blond head of her child, forearm resting on her hip. "My inquiry requires privacy and a quick response." Rhaelle said, her eyes moving in the direction of the entrance to the sacred crypts of Winterfell.

Grimm: Jarik's gaze was lingering over the boy as Rhaelle pried him from her hip. The woman never did seem the mothering type but there was still something there when she looked at her son. Though the boy had features not really common in a Baratheon, he was definitely not one to linger on what was out of place, being half Wildling himself with almost flaming red locks. Unfolding his arms from his chest, Jarik rested one on the pommel of his sword and the other hanging loose by his side. There was no threat in his movements, it was just a position of comfort for the young lord. Rhaelle's gaze was followed by Jarik's towards the ancient crypts of the Stark's and with a nod, Jarik moved from his position and back towards the entrance to where the door to the Crypt stood. Rarely were they visited save for the priests or other holy men and on occasion or Jarik's father, yet Jarik himself never saw a point in speaking to the dead. Opening the door, Jarik motioned for them to go inside before looking back to the Maester. "No one is to enter until I leave." The old man simply nodded.

Biird: Rhaegar stood tall in the towering presence of his unknown cousin. He was used to people towering over him, and outside the presence of his immediate family people tended to sneer at him. He took it all with the silence grate of his mother, but inside the boiled the need to rebel that was so much his father. Left to his own devices, Rhaegar tore through the castle at Storm’s End smiting all those who talked down to him or did him any sort of harm. Then he cleverly placed himself in the shadow of his grandmother who would hear no foul word toward her grandchild. He could only get away with such behavior while his mother was away, riding the seven corners of the kingdom on errand for another cousin he'd yet to meet. The urge to rebel was well out of his system by the time his mother returned with news that they would be riding North; the last and longest quest. Rhaegar looked face of his mother as he reached for her hand, holding the last two fingers. Rhaelle looked into those stormy eyes and her heart smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite mar her features. Her fingers curled drawing his little hand closer to the warmth of her palm. They followed Jarik into the crypt, where, just beyond the threshold, Rhaelle took a lit torch and handed it to Rhaegar. He gripped it with both hands and held in front of him since the thing was almost his size. They moved several steps in before Rhaelle took another torch from the wall. Once they were down into the crypt, she flung her torch to the left, down a long a dark hall, effectively chasing away shadows and rats. There was no one lingering in the crypt along the left corridor at the moment. She took the other torch from Rhaegar and planted it in an empty metal loop on the wall.


Grimm: As they descended the stairs to the lower crypt, Jarik pulled his fur hood about his head. There was no reason for it, the young Lord just enjoyed the feel. As the shadows were chased away, Jarik walked a few steps further into the crypt, his hooded gaze peering about before he turned and folded his arms about his broad chest. Looking from Rhaegar to Rhaelle, a long silence befell them, until Jarik finally spoke. "What need is there for secrecy cousin? You were never the type to sneak about in the shadows." Jarik had grown up with Rhaelle and all her siblings, for 6 months of the year, Jarik's aunt, their mother, brought them North when their father passed away. The fact that Rhaelle did not come with Kainen meant there was need for tact on this little visit, though why Azaroth was not with her he did not know. "Are things so boring in Storm's End you desired to show this one the fun of the North?" A smirk tugged at the edge of Jarik's lip, but it quickly faded when he gaze moved from the boy, back to Rhaelle.

Biird: "My time in Storm's End has been rather limited lately. I am on errand for my cousin Dante. His brother Alexander sits on the Iron Throne and his madness, his plague, cannot be left unfrettered for much longer. What I will ask of you now is treason." She looked about the crypt then, a motion to their secrecy. Answering his question. "I know you, cousin, if every you have looked toward the South is was because that was the direction of your prey. With your father ill and your title looming ever closer, you will be forced to look south now. I came to ask you to help bring peace back to the land. I need only the presence of your most trusted noble lords at the harvest festival, willing to swear fealty to the new king, Dante, our cousin and Alexander's younger brother."

Grimm: Alexander's reign was definitely verging on that of tyranny with every breath and bad decision he made. Jarik's father tried to talk to the man before his accident, but whether the letters never reached their intended target or had fallen on the deaf ears of a mad king, the result was the same, things were slipping rapidly into the mud pit of civil war, the only real question left, who would be left standing when the storm passed. Jarik's head lowered as he turned from his cousin, arm raising and half gloved nails scratching at the stubble framing his face. Would his first order as Lord of Winterfell be the rallying of his house against the monarchy? What would his father do in his place? Though the second question was never one Jarik could pull to his mind. The men were too different. Rickard favoring his house while Jarik favoring the wilds that surrounded them. As much as he wanted to run to his father's side and ask his guidance, he knew it would be highly unlikely for his father's eyes to ever open again, and if the man survived the night, it would be a miracle. Rhaelle's words rang about in his mind. This cousin of theirs was never someone Jarik had met, though he had heard of him, Dante Baratheon, the Dragon Wing of Dragon Stone. From what he knew, the man was as tall as Kainen but much less brash. Turning back to her, Jarik sighed, for he knew Rhaelle was more of a tactician then any other, and if she felt Dante be better suited for the throne, then that was what was best. Yet he still had his reservations. "Should your plan not work, Rhaelle, what then? This would not only mean the collapse of the Stark's house, but also a death sentence to the Free Folk. I am one of them before I am one of these parading nobles, you know this." Jarik's words were heavy, as if he were someone that had given up on hope before he even took the throne in the Winterfell keep. Possibly because he had never been forced to make a decision so grand in all his years and even less so with no one to turn to for advice.

Biird: Rhaegar had pulled free of her hand and started after the torch that burned brightly down the hall where his mother had thrown it as a precautionary measure to the conversation he had input on. He picked it up and thrust the flickering light into the many darkened alcoves that revealed the stone statues of so many Starks long departed. There seemed to be a presence following him. A dancing shadow, who's rhythm didn't match that of the flame in his heavy torch. It lingered over his shoulder, just out of his line of sight. The figure of woman with a wreath of roses about her head. She gave Rhaegar the feeling she had seen rebellion before. "House Stark is strong. Despite your wiles you will make a strong lord. A lord with a vision unlike that of any other before you. Your path from this moment on will not be an easy one not matter what king takes the throne, but I believe you could hold this keep above a storm." Her hand ran along a stone pillar. "Even if you fail, the House will remain. But you won't fail. Your line is long and strong, thick with the blood of the First Men. A line not seen beyond the Wall in centuries. This is your moment to stop fighting your legacy and learn to weave the two halves of your being together. The Free Folk can handle their own. Disorganized through the White War they still managed to overcome. Now they have The Nights Watch, a place I must take my leave too." Rhaegar had wandered down the long dark hall and finally come to the stone resemblance of the woman to hung over his shoulder. The sudden encounter gave his little heart a fright and sent the boy running back to his mother's side. The torch light was dying down now as he clutched it to his chest, stormy eyes darting between his mother and Jarik. "You live in this world of despair and woe. I ask you to look to the future with optimism."

Grimm: Rhaelle was always good at her speeches, which was surprising for one of few words, but Jarik could feel the sincerity in them few syllables. Always had he rebelled against a destiny he never wished for, wanting to be as free as his mother and youngest brother, both of whom he had not seen since his fathers injury. Rolling his shoulders, Jarik turned to watch the young Baratheon moving deeper into the crypt as if on some minor mission, but his mind was not on the boys act, but rather Rhaelle's words. Jarik knew in his heart that she was right, but his mind, possibly expecting the worst of such a situation fought against what he knew was probably the best choice. The young Lord of the Stark's definitely was not an optimistic person and a part of him preferred it that way, though he felt it also closed him off from making certain choices. "You may be right in your course, Rhaelle, and I do respect your word, though I know nothing of your cousin, this Dante, and if he is anything like his brother, I am hesitant to say I would fight to put another King on the throne that may need to removed a few years down the line." Jarik looked down to Rhaegar who had returned to his mothers side.  

Biird: The conversations of adults talking, quite literally over his head, were being stored dutifully in the memory of Rhaegar. Per his mother, he knew that many things happening to him now would leave no impression on him, but has he grew he would remember with great fondness and acquired knowledge that he was in the presence of something great; born to an age of change. So while his subconscious worked to store away this moment, his forethought's were on the dancing  flames of his dying torch that moved with seemingly no provocation. They moved in a similar fashion as those flames that danced to life when the maids stirred the hearth in his bed chambers. Every now and then he could make out clear shapes of ladies and lords moving along the walls in the shadows created by the living torch. The ancestors were watching, listening, deciding. When his cousin looked down at him, Rhaegar looked up, his face wide and open, always learning, absorbing information. The conversation turned back to the adults and a spark leapt from the base of the torch and fell at his feet, bouncing like some wild ball of flame. “Hope.” He said softly, but firmly, tugging his mother’s hand and looking pointedly to the ember that burned furiously against the cold stone floor. With a gust of wind that should not have been, the ember swirled high, dancing at the child’s height for a moment before dimming and finally dying mid-air. “Hope.” Rhaegar repeated, looking between the two grown ups.

Grimm: Before he could offer more insight to his way of thinking, something had caught Rhaegar's attention, a dancing flame, a fallen spark of ignited wood, and the representation along with a word that a boy of his age could not fathom the weight of in this moment. A smirk tugged at the Wolf Lords lip as he stepped closer to both of them. No where would it be recorded that a boy of 3 brought about the deciding act in a move that would shape a land for generations to come, but those present, at least those with the fortitude to remember, would recall such an event. "You have my sword, cousin." Placing his hand on Rhaegar's head, Jarik offered him a curt nod before he turned and looked to Rhaelle. "Hope. It seems the boy is wiser than myself." Jarik knew Rhaelle probably had some smart comment that would cut at his ego for what he had just said, so instead of waiting for it, at least waiting for it head on, Jarik stepped passed them both towards the stairs. "Your journey North to the wall shouldn't wait a moment longer. I'm sure your mount is waiting." With that, he took the lead with a torch in hand and ascended the stairs once more.

Biird: Her son seemed to be channeling the more mythical interpretations of the moment as he gave a single spark of light the weight of the known world to carry on it's proverbial shoulders. Whether he knew what his actions had on this moment or not, it came with the intended ending to this conversation. Jarik had given his word to aid in the taking of King's Landing, backing her cousin Dante. It was all she really asked of him, but could completely understand his hesitation on the matter. With a sick father and absentee mother, the Wolf Lord had quite a bit on his plate. A smirk chipped her stoic features at his words and she allowed him to have his moment. Taking the torch from her son, Rhaelle led the boy by a hand at the back of his head back up the stairs and out of the crypt. "Mother," Rhaegar started. "can I piss of the edge of the world with you?" Rhaelle wasn't sure who had filled her child's head with wild stories of the wall, but ever since she'd mentioned going there all he had wanted to do was "piss off the edge of the world". She shook her head, looking up to Jarik. "I must ask yet another favor. Ward Rhaegar until I return from the Wall."

Grimm: As they emerged back into the faint light of the morning as it streamed through the dusty windows, Jarik's eyes squinted, holding the door open for his cousin and the young Rhaegar, a chuckle cutting through the busy mornings rumbling at the small boys words. It sounded like something either Azaroth or Kainen would have woven into the boys mind. The last request was also received with a nod and a call towards one of the hand maidens that had little to do now that Jarik's mother had vanished. Not that they had a lot to do when she was here, his mother usually hunted them away with a flurry of insults. Quickly the young girl moved to the young lords side as Jarik placed a hand on Rhaegar's head and ushered him towards her. "My young cousin will be staying with us for a while. Take him to get some food and show him to a room. You are his maiden for the time he is here." The girl looked between all three that stood before her and nodded respectfully. "Of course, My Lord." There was a visible twitch that pulled at the side of Jarik's eye as she addressed him, but he knew he would need to accustom himself to such speak. "I need to go out again, but he will be perfectly safe here, you have my word, Rhaelle."

Biird: Dutifully, Rhaegar followed his mother and cousin back into the main halls of Winterfell. He gave a long look back into the darkness before the crypt door closed. Young as he was, he couldn’t quite comprehend it all but he knew this was a moment that would stick with him for a long time coming, but his mind quickly went back to his journey to The Wall with is mother, though she had turned him down. He frowned for a moment, then looked up at his cousin whose hand had befallen the downy, braided locks on his head. When the maiden came forward to claim him, Rhaegar stepped out from under Jarik's hand and turned to his mother. Rhaelle kneelt before him, wrapping his smalls hands up in her own and kissing his fingtertips. “Remain with your cousin. Winterfell is a grand place with many places to hide and many things to discover. Mind the Maester. I will return in a few days. Your mother loves you, Rhaegar, forever and always.” Their partings always ended that way. The boy threw his arms about her neck, then turned allowed himself to be directed by the maiden to which he was charged. As Rhaelle stood, a familiar hand fell onto her steel covered shoulder. “He will be a fine man someday.” said the old maester, who seemed to have appeared out of no where. She nodded. “Like his mother.” The old man laughed. "Enjoy your hunt." Rhaelle said over her shoulder as she took her leave, heading out to toward the stables to retrieve her wild stag.

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Grimm: With Rhaelle gone and the boy, Rhaegar, off getting his fill of both food and attention from those about the Keep, Jarik made for the armory. Removing his bow from his shoulder, checking the string, apply some oils to keep it flexible and in good condition, Jarik always payed close attention to his bows well being. The upkeep of a mans weapon was a reflection of himself, that and growing up his mother never held back if he did not keep good care of his bow. Once satisfied, he added a few more arrows to his quiver, double checked both his sword and dagger before finally leaving the armory and heading towards the kitchen with an empty satchel in his left hand. The bear had surely gone deeper into the woods surrounding Winterfell, and with a fresh layer of snow coating the ground, following it's tracks was getting more difficult by the minute. Jarik needed supplies, he foresaw this hunt taking at least 2-3 days, but hopefully not longer. "You should stay Young Lord, your father will not last much longer and things need to be put in order." The Maester shuffled behind him, talking in low enough tones so only Jarik could hear, though the young Wolf only shook his head and put such thoughts aside. "You will be fine in my stead till I return Maester, plus, Varien will be at hand to help with any small detail." Before the Maester could usher a word in rebuttal, Jarik turned into the kitchen to see his newly met cousin scoffing down a rather large helping of sweet rolls. A smirk tugged at Jarik's lips as he gave the boy a wink and then moved to grab some dried meets, cheeses and fruit before circling around to snatch one of the boys sweet rolls from his overloaded platter. "Don't tell your mother" The boy gave a mischievous grin that almost made Jarik proud, he was definitely part Stark. Leaving the kitchen, he placed a hand on the Maester's shoulder for a brief second and quickly parted down the hall back to the entrance. Finishing the roll, he strapped the bag of food and provisions to his back, the bow fastened quickly after, and with a final equipment check, he gave a glance around. "Where is she?" He muttered. The she he spoke of was his constant companion from the time he was a child, a Wildling female his mother had brought home on one of her trips back to The Gift and the two, Jarik and the Wildling, had been almost inseparable since.

Biird: Thorna’s bow tapped the wall as she leaned upon it with her foot resting high up by her backside. Her leathers were tight, molded over the curves of her body. She was busty, with wide hips and short power legs, a true hour glass figure. Her hands were small and her face was heart-shaped with that pointy chin and those crystal like green eyes. She wore bruises and scrapes the way other girls wore jewelry. Hearing Jarik approach the gate, she turned and attempted to cover the entrance with her person, feet apart, shoulders hunched, glaring down at him. “You’re late, Lord Stark.” She teased, stalking toward him. “I saw that little party that came in. In and out in a flash, just like that. Unusual for you noble folk.” Throna made very grand hand gestures when she spoke. She spoke with her whole body and usually with a teasing smile on her battered face. “When we go out,” she went on, pushing up on her toes to attempt to meet his height since she was a good few inches shorter than he, “You must share with me all the gossip. I saw that woman riding north. The gossip must be terrific. ‘Sides, the only thing north of here is home and the Wall, and I know she ain’t got no business with wildlings she aint gonna take that big ol’ Lord Crow. You ain’t seen that man, have you?” She turned and started out of the great walls of Winterfell and into the wolfswood where their prey awaited. “I ain’t neither. I hear he’s got giant’s blood in ‘im. Can you imagine? That girl gon’ look real petite next to the Lord Commander. You think she can handle all them Free Folk alone?”

Grimm: Almost every time Throna opened her mouth, Jarik forgot how many words could spill from such a small figure so quickly. Question after question, assumptions and stipulations, every little things she could give voice too, she did. Though as she spoke, Jarik's eyes spent more time on her expansive bust than her face. He swore they got bigger every time they met, which was daily, not that he was complaining, she was the only female that could ever hold his attention in such a manner, which was kind of strange given he had known her since they were barely able to walk. When she turned, his eyes drifted lower to her wide hips before he managed to tear his eyes from her figure enough to walk forward and not straight into a wall, not that it would be the first time. Jarik was almost a Master hunter, he still had much to learn. Yet around Throna, he was still a novice, or at least he would be, if her constant talking didn't have him hyper aware of their surroundings because he sometimes had to tell her, so politely, to shut up. A sigh parted his lips as he followed her out the main gate. "You could at least pretend I don't tell you everything that goes on in these wall's while we are still within their confines. You ain't suppose to know everything that goes on here you know" Jarik often found his own speech slipping when around Thorna for too long. A few minutes was too long it seemed.

Biird: She laughed, not unaware of his constant oogling. It didn’t phase her, but she laughed because he forgot he was a lord when they were together. Looping her bow over her back and plucking the string between her breast as they walked. “Ain’t no one in them walls worth their salt dumb enough to believe you aint spilled everything to me. Hells if it weren’t for risk of giving me your little bastard, you’d have given me that Stark seed already and you best be believing they think you already have.” Thorna laughed again, ruffling the cropped hair on the top of her head. The sides were shaved around her ears and she wore a circlet of leather. “But you ain’t answered my question. You think that woman gon’ come back from a tangle with Free Folk?” The summer snow started to fall again, light flurries that spent more time dancing in the air than coating the ground. Thorna passed her hand over the trees they passed as they moved deeper into the woods. She dropped low and started to watch the trail intently. If they didn’t find this bear her Lord Stark would never rest well again.

Grimm: Jarik shifted through the snow, not paying much heed to their surroundings just yet as the bear would be much deeper in the forest and any game in the local vicinity wasn't of any concern to them at the moment. With her comments of his seed, Jarik tripped slightly, though she said it so offhandedly he doubted she really gave much thought to the concept, only what others viewed might have happened between them. In reality, Jarik would have done so 10 times over at this point, but stopped himself for fear his mother would beat the crap out of him. "Rhaelle will be fine. You know her, she is more than capable of handling them Crows. It seems their cousin, and I suppose mine, who knows with nobles, wants to take the throne from his cousin. She wanted my support." Jarik said this in as lax a manner as Thorna did about their would-be-children as he passed under another ticket of bushes.

Biird: Throna threw her hands up in the air and let out a low whistle. "That was the ol' Beast of Storm's End, aye? Ain't looking like no little boy no more. That I'll say for her. Ripped into a woman right, she did. Now you really gotta pay she don't come back with another bastard, this one with Lord Commander's crow's blood. That man ain't got turn around for a good lady. He ain't like my noble Lord Stark. No ser." She teased, ribbing him lightly with her elbow  until her eye caught something in the brush ahead of them. Lowering her body to a crouch, Throna scooted toward a leafless branch and pulled a chunk of fur from it. Deep, black fur. "There you are, boy." She muttered to herself before showing her find to Jarik. "That beast of yours is filling his belly not far from here.  I tell you that."

Grimm: Jarik didn't pay much mind to what Throna was saying about his cousin and the possibilities of what would take place between her and the Lord Commander. Rhaelle was capable of holding her own, and if she was not, well, Jarik didn't think the Lord Commander, even if he were a wildling, would do anything stupid enough to endanger his own people. Kainen on the other hand was a completely different matter, which is why Jarik knew it was Rhaelle that came north. Passing under a low hanging branch, he trailed over to Throna's side and took the scrap of hair from her grip, sniffed it for a moment before nodding to her approximate judgement call. It was true the bear had had it's fill, but it seemed the animal had already moved on to another location. Jarik and Thorna spent most of the rest of the day in relative silence, or as much as there was possible for Thorna and he constant questions and inquiries. It wasn't until the next morning, just after dawns light shifted through the trees that they came upon the bear. The creature was ripping through a carcass of a large animal, the very same that Thorna had spoken of the day prior. It was the bears appetite and wanting to eat by it's own home that made it easy to track the beast. Reaching behind him, Jarik removed his bow, placed his bag on the ground to allow for easier movement and finally notched an arrow. Looking to Thorna, he nodded his head to the left of the bear and another nod to the right to indicate their positions before they attack. Giving his companion a wink, Jarik began his advance. Lucky for them, they had come in down wind, so the bear would not get a chance to sniff them out even as they surrounded the beast. Once in position, Jarik aimed the bow and waiting until Thorna was also ready, the arrows aimed directly for the beasts head. With a final nod to her, he loosed his arrow and let it fly, straight into the side of the beasts neck.

Biird: They tracked their prey to near the center of the wolfswood over a two day hike. Early on the morning of the third day,

---

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Biird: Rhaelle opened her mouth to stop him before he started but it was too late. For a man of his size, he sure did move fast. In an instant he was crowding her space, he loved to crowd her space, it made her stomach drop into a tight knot and there wasn’t enough air between him, but she met his gaze with brow cocked in suspicion and eyes full of doubt. For three days he’d all but said asking to marry her wasn’t for contracting purposes as he’d originally proposed but she still didn’t believe him. His words launched down her spine in a fury of heat and tingles that made her want to slap, no punch, his smug face. He moved, space, air, weak knees. ‘I hate you.’ Her near luminescent eyes squinted at his mention of what “wildling brides” do. “I’m not of the Free Folk, there’s really no need for all of this protocol. I was making a point when I said for you to come and claim me.” Her words trailed off, her hand waved him off. “Never mind. There is no talking to you. It’s time for me to g…” Alistar looped those massive arm around her and hoisted her off her feet. She grabbed the thick furred collar of his cloak, eyes returning to their usual squint of annoyance at his antics only to, just as usual cut away from his face as he spoke. This time however cutting her line of sight from his, meant looking right down at his mouth. ‘Don’t you dare!’ He didn’t. Good. Heart pounding, as soon as her feet touched snow she wheeled away and stormed to Stranger’s side, pulling herself onto his shaggy back, while Alistar made his men shit themselves. They all glumly mounted their horses and giving him one last look before looking to Rhaelle for instruction. Tapping Stranger on the side of his neck, the great stag turned from the gate and started toward Winterfell in a slow saunter. He was still wearing the saddle bags she’d arrived with, her Warhammer (a replica of Robert’s more suited to her size) was still strapped to his left side and her daggers were still in the bags. There were still some provisions there as well. “I see you managed to stay out of trouble.” The great beast shook his head, antlers pulling down low hanging branches. “Well then, at least you managed not to lose my things this time.” His head dropped for a moment then he muddled on. They rode for two days straight to Molestown and spent only a few hours before they were off again. As the sun rose on the second day from Molestown, Winterfell began to make a grand appearance. By midday they were greeted hesitantly at the gate. The maester shuffled right up to Stranger’s side and quietly informed Rhaelle of all the recent happening around the great house. She jumped off of the stag, who, as per usual, immediately began to wander away. “Wait here.” She commanded of the Night’s Watchmen and allowed the maester to show her inside.

Grimm: It had been over a week since Rhaelle had departed Winterfell for the Wall, spread of time that saw much change within the walls of Winterfell. The Lord had passed away due to injuries suffered at the hands of a bear. The Lady of the house, one of the Free Folk, had disappeared with the youngest of her children, back to The Gift many supposed but no one knew for sure. The eldest child, Jarik, who was now Lord of the Keep was also no where to be found. Since the day Rhaelle left, Jarik had disappeared into the Wolfswood with his childhood companion Thorna, in search of the beast that killed his father, though still nothing had been heard from the two. It seemed the fates however brought everything back to the center as the sun rose when Jarik, alone and with a small furred animal tucked inside the front of his shirt, arrived through the gates of Winterfell, not long it seemed after the arrival of his cousin on her return, with an escort. These were Free Folk Jarik had not met before, but then again there were far too many of him to know them all by name. Rolling his shoulders, he moved towards where Rhaelle and the Maester had entered the main section of the building, though he was blocked periodically as people approached him to offer their sympathies. Though some offered their displeasure at the fact he was not present for his own fathers funeral. To those, a furrowed brow caused them to step a few feet back and nod in a make-shift bow. The kids of Winterfell however were more interested in what rested within his furred top, seeing the little head of what they assumed was a dog, but was actually a wolf pup. Pressing the doors open, he entered the main area and approached his cousin. "You don't seem the type in need of an escort. What trouble did you bring with you?" He may have been joking, but his face did not change and it was so marred by dirt it was almost hard to make out who he was if it wasn't for his height and tone of voice. "My Lord, you have been gone many a night, you have missed much" Jarik waved a hand to the Maester but kept his focus on Rhaelle.

ShiftingSky: The wildlings had been on their best behavior for the most part through the trip south, even ensuring that they kept to themselves in the all-too brief visit to moletown. They gave the lady a wide enough berth, sensing her mood was foul. One man had joked briefly that she was missing Alistar, and he had promptly been unseated from his horse by a warhammer blow to the chest. Needless to say none of the men had dared joke about the scenario again, and had widened the berth they gave her even further. They saw what Alistar saw in her, that was to be sure. None but the most fierce of women would've caught the attention of their Lord Commander so fully as to drive him to thoughts of marriage. By the time they arrived in Winterfell, the men were beginning to take bets on how long behind them the Lord Commander would be. He'd given her a head start, but the running bet was only ranging between an hour to a day of their arrival at King's Landing that the Lord Commander would appear to reclaim his bride. They had quite a deal of confidence in the drive of the monstrous man. Standing around in Winterfell made the lot of them, save the recruiter, distinctly uncomfortable. Most of them weren't used to such a bustling area, and it was the closest they'd come to "civilization" yet, moletown included. The recruiter kept them calm, and reminded them that it was bound to get even more different from here. Each of them glanced at Jarik as he appeared, and one of them gave him a grin, recognizing the lad from a few years back, though he doubted the new Lord Stark would recognize him.

Biird: Upon hearing the news brought by the maester, Rhaelle resolved to council her cousin and perhaps even threaten to marry him off since now he lacked any sort of noble influence in his life. Winterfell would fall apart in the wake of an absentee lord and that could not happen after all the work she’d put into keeping the kingdom whole. The North was too vast to be left in ruins. It seemed just as the maester finished his speech in walked her cousin. Rhaelle left the maester’s side and pulled Jarik into her arms as he spoke. After giving him a good squeeze, she stepped back and rubbed his face clear of dirt. “None. They are the good will of the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” Even speaking of Alistar in the most roundabout of ways she couldn’t stop the flutter in her stomach. His face was clean, a small furred head wriggled its way free of the front of his vest, giving a small whine. “You must be the only hunter to return with living spoils. Such a failure you are.” Rhaelle gave a teasing smile and pushed her arm around his shoulder. “I had come back to ask you join us with your noble lords to King’s Landing in support you agreed to prior to my trip, but you have to stay here. Learn to how to take her place here. You will be a Lord like no other. Possibly much like the First Men. But we still need your support.” She hadn’t offered her condolences in words he would have just frowned at her. His demeanor was easy for her to read. Her hand ran up the back of his head, fingers curling to give a hard enough tug to pull his head back. “Besides, if you’re not good, I’ll tell Dante to order you married off to some Bolton. Your children will be hideous and your lords will sooner see you dead.”

Grimm: Jarik leaned his head back when his cousin wrapped his arms around her, his face knotting into a look of confusion and disapproval. When she went to clean his face, Jarik had to stop himself from grabbing her wrist and only groan, as a child almost would when his mother tried to clean them after dinner, or for dinner. She was acting strange and he couldn't figure out why. Never in their years had she hugged him, not unless it was a headlock followed by Kainen throwing one of them in some direction or other.Finally she decided to answer him, but it did not sound like something the Lord Commander would do. Rhaelle wasn't telling him something, though Jarik couldn't put his finger on why. Reaching into his top, Jarik pulled the small dire wolf cub free, holding him in his right arm. "I killed what needed to be killed" Her next words though brought the weight back down on his shoulder, and it caused him to squeeze the little wolf slightly tighter to his side, as if trying to hold a moment longer to his freedom that she had hammered down was no longer available to him. "The Lords will go with you and I will send my brother Varien also in my stead." Growling when she pulled his hair, he shook his head free of her grip. "He can try, but she might freeze her pampered ass off up here" Jarik had no interest in marrying someone just because he was a Lord, he could do this on his own, at least for a few more years.

Biird: Rhaelle smirked at her cousin and let him go. Finding a good moment, the maester stepped up and handed her a rolled up parchment. She unrolled it as he spoke in his quiet but firm tone. “Several of the Lords present for the passing of our great Lord have agreed to join your campaign. They ready for King’s Landing as we speak. I will speak with young Varien and see he is ready to depart when you are My Lady. If I may be so bold, I think the warmth of King’s Landing will be good for the young Lady Mirna as well.” Rhaelle nodded, patting his shoulder in thanks. “And my son?” The maester gave some shadow of a frown the mention of Rhaelle’s little bastard lord who had been left in their stead on her journey to the true North. “The little lord enjoys the wolfswood as much as your Lord cousin. I fear the maidens of Winterfell were not prepared for such energy.” Rhaelle laughed then. “Don’t worry, old man, all that boy needs is a good stiff hand or the threat of his uncle Kainen. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” The maester shook his head, deciding to keep the suspicion of missing silver wares and other trinkets to himself. If that boy was even swatted by Kainen it could take him days to recover. The poor lad must have just been enjoying his freedom from the terror of the man, the maester decided. “He must be outside in the courtyard, My Lady.” Nodding, Rhaelle gave the little Direwolf cub a head rub before starting toward the doors. “My companions must be stir crazy. I believe we only need the night and we can depart in the morning, if that’s alright with you, cousin.”

Grimm: Jarik could agree with the Maester, his siblings definitely could use the warmer climate and some time away from Winterfell, especially his sister. The wolf pup make an approved grumble at the pet as Jarik let the small animal down on the ground finally. It was barely even half way up Jarik's shin, but the little beast stayed by his side as Jarik made after his cousin back towards the entrance of the keep. With a nod to the Maester who went about fetching Varien and Mirna, Jarik stopped at the steps and the small dire wolf pup sat by his foot, small eyes looking all around at the creatures, big and small that roamed in the courtyard, it's head tilting curiously from side to side. Jarik smirked as the watched the small animal before returning his eyes to his cousin. "Feel free to take whatever accommodation you wish, Rhaelle, I'm sure Rhaegar will want you in his room though. The Free Folk, well, you boys are more than capable of making yourself comfortable I'm sure. Especially you, Jorgen" Jarik nodded to the recruiter who he had seen many a time from a young age.

Biird: As they took back to the courtyard, the maester dismissed himself to his duties with a quiet nod. Released the little pup acted as though he’d always been by Jarik’s side and so he would be for the rest of his life. Direwolves were the sigil of House Stark and they were known to have an innate connection to the beast. The same was true for herself and Stranger. As they neared the men of the Night’s Watch and Jarik spoke, around the corner came a little figure quickly tailed by a maiden that looked exhausted in every sense of the word. “Mother!” Rhaegar shouted. In one hand he held a bow his size and in the other he pulled behind him a stuffed training dummy plucked full of arrows. “Mother, mother! Look! I did it.” He came to a crashing halt at her legs, smiling brightly and looking up at her as if no other person existed. The handmaiden set to care for him, threw herself to her knees behind Rhaegar. The bun and braid that had no doubt started neatly piled on her head were in a disarray, her woolen dress was twisted, the ends more muddy and frayed than those of a woman leisurely wandering the grounds. “My Lady. I apologize for the state of your son. I was not foretold of your arrive. Please, miss, the bow and arrow… he…” Rhaelle held up her hand to hush the young girl. Her son was beaming at her, his face was as dirty as his cousin’s and his clothes were a mess. His blonde braid was frayed and mussed, but he was so happy with himself. “Calm yourself woman. You’ve done no harm.” “Mother!” Rhaegar went on, unable to sit still. “Mother, look. I killed him! I killed him! The man in the yard said he didn’t stand a chance.” Tucking her arms under his, Rhaelle hoisted the little boy up and plopped him onto her wide hips. “I see that, but do you see this poor woman’s state? You’ve run her ragged.” His head swung to the red face of the young woman then back to his mother, ducking sheepishly. “I’m sorry.” “What? What was that you said? I seem to be going deaf in my late years.” “I’m sorry mother.” “Good. Stop killing men and go and bathe. Then bring me some food.” Rhaelle said practically dropping him back on the ground. “I’ll bring rolls! That great big fat woman in the kitchen makes delicious rolls!” “Rhaegar!” He took off, bow, quiver and dummy left in his wake. The maiden took a deep breath prepared again to run after him, but Rhaelle stayed the woman. “Give that menace to someone else and take a break.” She nodded gratefully, dismissing herself.

ShiftingSky: The men nodded to Jarik as he spoke, hopping down from their horses and beginning to mill about. Jorgen gave Jarik a nod and hopped down as well, striding up and clasping forearms with him. "Ye've grown big lad. And if that pup is what I think it is, ye'd hope you'll grow a bit more yet if ye intend to tame it." He said, giving Jarik a wide, toothy grin. The rest of the men were getting their horses taken care of when they heard a string of words that they weren't quite sure they'd understood correctly, and even Jorgen had to pause. They all stared directly at the little lad, apparently named Rhaegar, and then to each other. They quickly hustled and gathered in a huddle, and soon the betting was on. Within moments it was 1:5 odds that Alistar would try and take the kid with him, with the less likely odds going in favor of Alistar dropping the woman for having a child already. They didn't put much stock in that, and the sole man making the bet only seemed interested in doing so on the off chance he won. Deals struck and hands shook, the men returned to their business, pointedly not paying attention to little Rhaegar. They didn't want to ruin the fun of the game by tipping their proverbial hands.

Grimm: A smirk tugged at the edge of the young Lord's lip looking towards Jorgen then down at the pup. "Aye, but a challenge that should prove entertaining now that I'm stuck here" It seemed Jarik was coming to terms pretty quickly that, now with his father dead, he would be swarmed with the office of nobility and upkeep of the Stark's name and holdings. The reason he was gone so long was he planned on finding his mother and possibly returning with both her and his youngest sibling. But even with his tracking abilities, his mother was far better at covering her own. She had not returned to The Gift, not yet anyway, and no matter how long he tried, he could not locate them. only hunger and the fact both him and the wolf were almost as black as night, forced the young Lord to finally return to Winterfell, though Thorna said she would keep searching. The girl, now woman, who had been with him since almost birth, would become his only trusted pair of eyes outside of Winterfell, another thought that sunk his stomach, the idea of being trapped. Jarik almost envied these Free Folk that stood before him, though their little group huddle when the young boy came forth caused Jarik's brow to frown, though he knew that they knew better than to try anything stupid, especially here. The Maester had gotten word to most of the houses that still resided within Winterfell since the funeral, the rest would be notified by the morning and the servants of the Keep would work through the night to prepare everything for the caravan that would depart in the small hours. Now, however, Jarik turned and moved towards his own room, passing through the kitchen, wolf at heel, scooping up food before arriving within his own quarters. Thankful, for once, to be a noble, as he saw an already steaming bath ready, he fed both himself and his new companion and simply allowed the weight of a future to come to push him under the hot water, trying to relax as best he could.

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Grimm: As the dawn trickled over the walls of Winterfell, the ground was only just beginning to dry after days of constant rainfall. It was a blessing for the crops but an annoyance for those that had to venture out into it's unforgiving embrace. A few days had passed since the new Lord of Winterfell, Jarik Stark had called for the head of the Mormont house to come to his keep and he was expecting them any day now if not this day. Pacing back and forth in the great hall that also acted as the receiving hall for anyone visiting or any court business that needed to be discussed. Jarik could not sit still, always walking or fidgeting with his clothing that he had to wear in exchange for his normal furs. With his father's passing he was thrust into a position he was not prepared for, but one he would take too with pride, if for no one else's sake but his father's. To his side the Maester stood, constantly ushering him to sit down as Jarik tugged on the tunik that bore their dire wolf head crest upon his chest. The old man's demands were met with a grunt, the Maester never stopped treating the new Lord as anything other that a child when alone though it was only ment in a loving manner, like a grandfather would a grandson. Eventually Jarik did cease his endless trek back and forth in front of his seat. "Another step and you would have worn the stone smooth." The Maester scoffed as he folded his arms behind his back, within the long sleeves of his cloak. Jarik's brother and sister were currently packing for their trip to King's Landing in lieu of the Harvest Feast and upon request of their cousin Rhaelle Baratheon. Jarik himself could not attend due to his lack of knowledge about his new station. So he was sending his siblings in his stead under the watch of the Baratheon's and possibly the Mormonts, depending on how the discussion would go.

Highlander: Jorsanna let out a deep sigh, shaking her head back and forth to free herself of any rain left on her hood as she slid down off her horse, glancing behind her to her twin. Mirryn had always been more comfortable in dresses than Jorsanna had, but this was a formal meeting and chainmail or breeches simply wouldn't do. She had been summoned to discuss matters left vague at best, which meant the entire preparation for the trip here had been filled with endless speculation by her twin, who by necessity must remain at home. The trip itself had been made primarily in silence, Jorsanna herself not nearly as eager to jump into politics as her sister. She was shown into the main hall, the coterie of Mormont guards following in behind her as the door shut. Jory lowered her wet hood, her damp hair almost as dark as the cloth, before approaching the Dais where a Maester and who she could only assume was Jarik Stark was seated. " My Lord Stark. Apologies for my appearance, the rain was most unforgiving...in its usual fashion." She said, giving a fluid half curtsy and a bob of the head as was custom in the north. "I received your summons. What was it you wished to discuss with me?" she asked, folding her gloved hands in front of her. Not one to waste time, she was ready to get to the meat of it and get into some drier, warmer clothes.

Grimm: As the minutes ticked by, a page ran into the main hall, coming to an almost sliding halt in front of Jarik, who now had his elbow resting on his knee and his chin resting on his fist in a rather bored looking manner. The Maester scolded the young lad for running into the hall in such a manner but Jarik thought nothing of it, simply sat, slouched, and waited for what had caused the boy to arrive in such a rush. "Lady Mormont has arrived Lord Stark, she is coming this way now." Before the boy could truly finish his message, Jory Mormont had arrived through the door, and with a bow and a squick backwards scurry, the boy disappeared to the side of the room. Jarik slowly sat up straight in his seat, watching the group arrive and nodding as Jory introduced herself. The Mormont's were almost famous for their love of never beating around the busy, and as quick as greetings and pleasantries were made, they were straight down to the hand of the matter. "I need you to go to King's Landing for the Harvest Feast as quickly as possible, preferably within the day. Any provisions you need will be given along with extra clothing and such. I will also need you to bring my siblings along with you and I will send extra men for your guard to be given under your command." The Maester gave Jarik a quick glance, though not one of confusion, he was actually impressed at how the young Lord was commanding the situation. A slight smile tugged at the corner of the old man's lips. "Can you do this, Lady Mormont?" The Mormont's were always the closest of allies to the Stark's and that had never changed through wars, rebellions and infighting. Yet never had the Stark's had a half wildling sitting at the Head of the Family. Because of such, internally Jarik braced himself for some rebuttal, even if it was a woman before him, women had ruled the Mormont house and Bear Island for the past 300 years and Jarik would give them no less respect than any house led by a male.

Highlander: A dark, slender brow rose slightly at the request, as the Mormont woman let her eyes flit over to the Maester and the Young Wolf again. It was a simple enough request, though it seemed...unusual to waste a trip for something as banal as this. "Of course, my Lord." she acquieseced, her voice firm but smooth in timbre. She held up one long, gloved finger though as she paused. "However, you've not brought me all the way out here to tell me something that could have been received by a raven. I will do as you ask, of course, but i would like to know what it is, exactly, that myself and my men will be walking into?" she canted her head then, dark brown hair framing her pale features as her brow furrowed inquisitively. Jory didn't know this young lord, so fresh in his boots, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and not simply assume he would summon her here without further purpose.

Grimm: The question returned was exactly one Jarik was expecting, if anything he would have been disappointed if she was just going to blindly take his order and leave on the morrow. Nodding his head too her, Jarik rose from his seat and stepped away to the side of the room, opening a door to an adjacent section of the grand hall before looking back at Jory. "This will require more private surroundings, if you would Lady Mormont." Jarik ushered a hand towards the door inviting her to follow after him. The Maester gave him a simple nod as he stood towards Jory's men that accompanied her. "The rest of you may accompany me to the kitchen for some hot food and ale. Even those of the bear must tire after a trip in such conditions." The men hesitated, looking towards Jory, not knowing if they should leave their lady even in the middle of Winterfell, a known ally. Such was the loyalty of soldier to their house.

Highlander: She noticed their hesitance and smiled, an expression that seemed to light up her smooth alabaster features with a certain softness and warmth. They were good men these, and they deserved what the Maester was offering them after such a rain-sodden trip. She lifted a hand in dismissal, crossing the stone floor in a swish of skirts and fur as she made her way to the side door that Jarik was now indicating. She moved in a fluid manner, born of practice in the yard and in dance. She turned, back to the window in the side room and waited for the door to be closed before she spoke. "You seem to be settling into your new position quite well, if i may say so, Lord Jarik. Do you find it a comfortable fit?" she asked, moss green eyes studying the changes in his expression with a stoic sort of interest.

Grimm: With the soldiers leaving with the Maester towards the kitchen, their demeanor changing to that of relaxed and hungry, reverting to more young men then soldiers with shoulder nudges, bumping together and laughing as they made for their meal. When Jory passed him, Jarik gave a quick look around the great hall that was now empty and shut the door in his wake as he entered the small room. Rolling his shoulders and tugging slightly at his tunic just as Jory asked about his position and his comfort, he could only chuckle. "I would be lying if I said I did not miss my furs and spending my days in the forest rather than in court, even in this weather." Jarik never hid the fact he embraced his Wildling side, it was something the other nobles residing within Winterfell would have to deal with and those beyond the walls would too. So long as Jarik upheld his family honor and lead well, his love for being free should offer no one a moment to pause and question him. "Now, for the true reason I requested to here in person Lady Jory. The Mormont's have been loyal to the Stark's for many an age, even before the White War and back to the time of Aegon the Conqueror. What I am about to say will test this loyalty but my trust in your family and in you remains high." Jarik paused for a moment, his gloved hand brushing along his stubbled chin as he thought of the best means to phrase his next words. "The mad King, Alexander Baratheon needs to be removed." The very words were treason and punishable by death, but Jarik rolled his shoulders back again, standing tall and supporting his words with a focused and stern look towards the Lady Mormont. A look not born to intimidate, but give backing to the seriousness of what he spoke. "And it will happen, upon this Harvest Feast. I need your sword with us, Lady of Bear. I trust you know this is for the good of the kingdom, for your people, and mine and everyones future both young and old." Again be paused for a long moment. "Will you stand with House Stark in this?"

Highlander: Dark brows rose for the briefest of moments before a wry grin spread across her face, tucking her dress with her hands as she sat on the bench behind her. "Took them long enough to work up the nerve." she mused, raising her green eyes back to Jarik's face, her smile fading slightly into a more serious expression as her amusement was replaced by business. Her eyes stayed pinned on his as she spoke, orbs of mossy steel, folding her hands in her lap, gloved fingers intertwined. "I do indeed. As before, as Always, you have my swords. It has been long enough coming if you've heard the same tales I have from the South. I assume the Baratheons themselves are the Arbiters of this plan?"

Grimm: Jarik would have lied if he said he wasn't at all surprised by her initial response, because even he had taken a moment of consideration when Rhaelle had propositioned him with this same deal, though Jarik had a much larger stake in this, that being of the entire North and the Free Folk at the wall, but even still, to lady Jory, Bear Island was as important to her as the North as a whole was to Jarik. "Aye. They have someone in place to take the throne when Alexander is, retired from his position. I do not require you to fight, unless the need should arise of the opportunity presents itself. But the more we have there in person at the Baratheon's back, the better it will be for the 7 Kingdoms." Jarik exhaled as the tension in his shoulders lessened almost visibly while he continued to speak. "My siblings will be in your charge also, though with Rhaelle near by I doubt they will act out of line, father did raise my sister well, my brother on the other hand, he tends to take after myself." A rare chuckle escaped the young Lord as his arms folded across his chest. "I'm sure you are tired and in need of a change of cloths, please, do not let me keep you any longer, and if you need to discuss anything further before you depart, I will more than likely still be sitting on that chair." His head inclined back to the great hall with a slight groan in his tone.

Highlander: She smiled a little and rose, patting him comfortingly on the arm with a gloved hand. "I will keep a close watch on them. If you have need of anything, my sister Mirryn will be at the Keep while I am away. " she pulled her gloves off, rubbing her thumb across her rain numbed fingers, long and slender. "A word of advice. The chair is only as durable as the person upon it- don't wear yourself out, yeah? " she mused, watching his face with a thoughtful expression. "While myself and my men are here you are welcome to join us at any time, a bit of socialising that doesnt include coups or politics might do you some good."

Grimm: "Thanks you." Jarik nodded to her as she approached and then a couple more nods were added to her words of wisdom. "You sound like the Maester. But I have a lot to learn if I'm going to be half the leader my father was." He offered her another rare smile as he turned to open the door, her invitation giving him pause for a moment. "I will have to take you up on that. It seems that's all that I have been doing since taking that seat. Not the easiest of introductions but a the best way to get stuck into a new challenge, head first." Pulling the door open, he stood to the side, allowing her to leave first."I hope to see you tonight for dinner, bring your men, it will make a change from the normal faces I see around here walking on eggshells since my father passed. I'll send a page when it is prepared, please, rest up until then." With that said, one of the maids of the castle came to the door to show the Lady Jory to her room. With a small curtsey and a bowed head, she spoke softly, the girl a couple years younger than Jarik. "Your room is ready lady Mormont. Please, allow my to show you the way."

Highlander: Jorsanna gave a soft smile and inclined her head in gratitude, stepping around him in a swish of dark skirts. He seemed a nice sort, having never met the young stark before- and he wasn't too hard on the eyes either. Hopefully they would be friends, much as her own parents and his had been once upon a time. "and Jory, if you like." she added, glancing over shoulder at him before she turned to follow the maid to the rooms prepared for her.