Bear Island

37 AC

Diana Mormont

Theon Stark Pov

The next morning, the persistent but polite knocking on my chamber door roused me from a deep, dreamless sleep. A young maid, her cheeks rosy and her eyes downcast, informed me in a soft voice, "Lord Stark, Lord Jonnos, Lord Mormont bids you to break your fast with him in the Great Hall." She curtsied quickly and retreated, leaving the invitation hanging in the air. The scent of woodsmoke and something savory, likely fish or smoked meat, wafted faintly from the corridor, a welcome change from the lingering tang of salt and blood from the previous day.

After a quick wash and a change into cleaner tunics – the salt and grime of battle still clinging faintly to our gear – Jonnos and I made our way to the Great Hall of Mormont Keep. As we entered, the warmth of the hearth and the aroma of a hearty meal enveloped us. Lord Mormont sat at the head of the long table, his wife, a stern-faced woman with kind eyes, beside him. Their son, Bryen, sat to his father's right, and Lady Diana was seated across from him. They all looked up as we approached, a silent invitation in their gazes.

"Lord Stark, Lord Jonnos," Lord Mormont greeted, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "Welcome. Please, join us. We were waiting for you to begin."

We exchanged polite greetings with Lord and Lady Mormont, and a curt nod with Bryen. When my eyes met Diana's, there was a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of recognition, a shared memory of the previous day's violence. I offered a respectful nod, which she returned with a steady gaze.

"So, Lord Stark," Lord Mormont began, his gaze direct, "you mentioned your journey was to observe the progress in the North. What are your impressions of what you've seen?"

"Impressive, Lord Mormont," I replied honestly. "The roads are opening up trade and communication, the windmills are a testament to Northern ingenuity, and the spirit of the smallfolk seems… resilient. There is a sense of progress, of building a stronger future."

Jonnos chimed in, a grin on his face. "Aye, and the ale is getting better in every holdfast we visit! Though nothing quite beats Winterfell's brew, of course."

Lady Mormont offered a small smile. "A healthy ale is a sign of a healthy community, Lord Jonnos."

Bryen, who had been silently eating, finally spoke. "And what of the rumors, Lord Stark? Whispers of… new ways? My father has heard tales." His gaze was shrewd, probing.

I chose my words carefully. "Innovation is necessary for survival in the North, Lord Bryen. We are exploring methods to improve our yields, our defenses… to ensure the long winters do not claim more than they must." I avoided any direct mention of magic.

Diana, who had been listening intently, her green eyes sharp, finally spoke, her voice low and steady. "And the reavers, Lord Stark? Do you believe this was an isolated incident? Or a sign of something more?" Her gaze held mine, direct and unwavering.

"That is what troubles me, Lady Diana," I admitted. "The boldness of their attack, so far south… it suggests a desperation, or perhaps a new level of audacity. We must consider the possibility that this was not merely a random act of piracy."

Jonnos frowned, his earlier joviality fading. "They were well-organized, that's for certain. Not just a handful of raggedy raiders."

Lord Mormont nodded grimly. "Bear Island has seen its share of ironborn over the centuries, but this… this felt different. More focused."

"Did you recognize any of their markings? Any banners, even if quickly stowed?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over the Mormonts.

Bryen shook his head. "No banners. Their ships were fast, lean… typical longships, but unmarked."

Diana added, her voice hard, "They fought with a ferocity that spoke of experience, not just drunken bravado." Her grip tightened slightly on her knife. "We will be more vigilant now."

As the discussion was going on a wry smile touched Diana Mormont's lips, a hint of amusement softening her usually intense gaze. "Lord Stark," she began, her voice laced with a playful edge, "I must confess, your arrival on the battlefield yesterday was… certainly memorable."

A flush crept up my neck. I braced myself for what was coming.

Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. "While my father and brother were rallying the defenses, and Lord Jonnos was… enthusiastically introducing those reavers to Northern steel," she paused, a slight tilt to her head, "you seemed to be… observing the finer points of reaver anatomy. From a rather… distant perspective."

Bryen Mormont chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. Even Lord and Lady Mormont exchanged knowing glances.

"Indeed," Diana continued, a teasing lilt in her voice. "For a moment, I wondered if we had gained a particularly well-dressed, if somewhat immobile, statue on our shores. One with remarkably fine swords, I'll grant you."

"Lady Diana," I stammered, trying to find a witty retort but failing miserably under her direct, amused gaze. "I… I was merely assessing the… the enemy's tactics." The excuse sounded weak even to my own ears.

Jonnos, of course, seized the opportunity. "Aye," he boomed, slapping me on the back. "Theon has a very… thorough… method of assessment. Usually involves a lot of staring and not a lot of actual fighting. Unless the enemy happens to be particularly… striking." He winked pointedly at Diana.

Diana's smile widened. "Striking, you say? Well, Lord Stark, I assure you, the reavers were hardly a sight to behold. Unless one has a particular fondness for filth and bad teeth." She paused, her gaze returning to mine, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Perhaps next time, you could favor us with a more… active form of assessment?"

My cheeks burned hotter. I could feel Jonnos practically vibrating with suppressed laughter beside me. All I could manage was a weak smile and a mumbled, "I… I shall endeavor to be more… engaged."

Diana's smile softened slightly, though the amusement still lingered in her eyes. "I have no doubt you will, Lord Stark. Especially if there are more 'striking' elements to observe."

As the last remnants of our meal were cleared away, Lord Mormont rose, stretching his broad shoulders. "A bit of rest might serve us well after yesterday's unpleasantness," he rumbled. "Then, perhaps, a visit to the courtyard? A friendly bout or two might clear the cobwebs."

Jonnos, a wide grin spreading across his face, clapped me on the shoulder. "Aye, theon's been itching to 'wrestle' the she-bear, haven't you, brother?" He punctuated his words with a suggestive wink towards Diana.

A playful glint entered Diana's green eyes. "A 'wrestle,' Lord Stark?" she echoed, a delicate smile playing on her lips. "I wasn't aware you had such… primal urges." She raised a brow, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary. "Be warned, my lord, bears are known for their strong grip."

The teasing continued as we made our way out of the Great Hall and towards the training yard. Jonnos regaled Lord and Lady Mormont and Bryen with exaggerated tales of my supposed infatuation, while Diana chimed in with witty remarks about my "captivated" stance during the battle and the potential dangers of underestimating a "she-bear" in close quarters. My attempts at dignified retorts were mostly drowned out by Jonnos' booming laughter and Diana's subtle, yet pointed, barbs. By the time we reached the sun-drenched courtyard, the air was thick with the scent of salt and steel, and my cheeks were still burning with a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, undeniable thrill.

Bryen and Jonnos were already trading blows in the center of the courtyard, the clang of steel echoing in the crisp air. Jonnos, despite his size, moved with surprising agility, Winter's Bite a blur of motion against Bryen's more traditional longsword. Bryen was a skilled swordsman in his own right, his movements solid and well-practiced, but Jonnos' wilder style and the reach of his bastard sword kept him on the defensive.

Diana watched the bout with a keen eye, her arms crossed. "Your brother fights with a… certain enthusiasm," she observed, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Less disciplined than Bryen, perhaps, but undeniably effective."

"Jonnos has always favored a more… direct approach," I replied, my gaze flicking between the sparring brothers and the intense woman beside me. "He relies on instinct and strength. Bryen's form is more refined, more measured."

"He is a good man, my brother," Diana said, her voice softening slightly. "Loyal and brave. As are the men you brought with you. The breathing technique you provide at last feast helped us a lot during the battle."

A hearty round of applause broke out from the Mormont men-at-arms. Lord Mormont clapped Jonnos on the back. "A good showing, Lord Jonnos! You fight with the ferocity of a true Northman."

Jonnos, basking in the praise, turned to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now then, brother," he drawled, his gaze flicking between me and Diana. "Perhaps it's your turn for a bit of… friendly sparring? I'm sure Lady Diana would be delighted to test her mettle against the famed skill of a Stark." He punctuated his suggestion with a pointed wink. "Though perhaps a less… wrestling-focused match this time?"

Diana's lips curved into a challenging smile. "Indeed, Lord Stark. I would be most interested to see if your swordsmanship is as… captivating as your battlefield observations." She moved with a fluid grace to where her spiked mace lay. She hefted it, the heavy head glinting in the sunlight.

I hesitated for a moment, a strange mix of anticipation and reluctance swirling within me. But the challenge in her eyes, coupled with Jonnos' relentless teasing, was hard to resist. I nodded, stepping into the training yard. A nearby guardsman offered me a well-balanced longsword.

The circle of onlookers widened as we faced each other. Diana held her mace with a confident ease, the spikes looking wickedly effective. I gripped the longsword, the familiar weight comforting in my hand. We circled each other slowly, the only sound the soft crunch of our boots on the packed earth.

She moved first, her advance surprisingly swift for someone wielding such a heavy weapon. Her swings were powerful and direct, each spiked head a potential bone-breaker. I parried her attacks with the longsword, the clang of metal echoing in the yard. Her ferocity was undeniable, a whirlwind of raw strength and determination.

While I possessed the honed skill and the almost preternatural awareness gifted by my training – a talent akin to the swordsman Mihawk of whom I had read – I held back. I allowed her to press her attack, testing her skill, observing her movements, her relentless spirit. We traded blows, the dance of steel and spiked metal a stark contrast in styles. She fought with the untamed fury of a she-bear defending her den, while I moved with a more controlled, almost languid grace.

The bout continued for a while, Diana's breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she put her all into each swing. But eventually, her relentless assault began to flag, her movements losing a fraction of their initial speed. Seizing the opportunity, I executed a swift parry, deflecting her mace wide, and with a fluid motion, disarmed her with a gentle tap to her wrist. The heavy mace clattered to the ground.

Diana stood panting, her green eyes blazing with a mixture of exertion and grudging respect. "You are… skilled, Lord Stark," she conceded, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "Far more… engaged… than you were yesterday."

The rest of the day unfolded with Lord Mormont and his family showing us the rugged beauty of Bear Island. We rode along windswept cliffs, the air thick with the cries of seabirds and the salty tang of the sea. Lord Mormont spoke with pride of his island's resilience, its people as hardy and unyielding as the granite shores. He showed us the dense forests that provided timber for their ships and the fishing villages that dotted the coastline, their inhabitants now slowly recovering from the reaver attack.

Bryen pointed out the strategic locations of their defenses, the watchtowers perched on high bluffs, ever vigilant against threats from the sea. Diana, surprisingly, was a knowledgeable guide, pointing out unique flora and fauna, her earlier fierce intensity softened by a quiet connection to her home. She spoke of the long winters and the resourcefulness required to survive them, painting a vivid picture of Bear Island's unique character.

As the day drew to a close, and the setting sun cast long shadows across the windswept landscape, I found myself looking at Diana with a newfound appreciation. Beneath the fierce warrior exterior lay a deep connection to her land and her people. The teasing from earlier in the day seemed a distant memory, replaced by a shared experience of witnessing the strength and resilience of Bear Island. Even Jonnos, usually full of boisterous commentary, seemed subdued by the island's stark beauty and the quiet determination of its inhabitants. The day offered a glimpse into the heart of House Mormont, a house as formidable and enduring as the island they called home.