[color=gold][center][h1]Friendships and Feasts: Northern Camps the Night Before the Tournament[/h1][/center][/color][hr]

The Feast of the Northern encampment was into full swing, food and drink flowed in great amounts. The table of House Stark was hosting some of their greatest friends and family from the Mormonts of Bear Island, to the Boltons of the Dreadfort. Sasja Reed and Gwendolyn Carmyne were seated with the Stark children. Though Ashe had been moved to sit next to Raelith so the couple could catch up after her arrival. Around the room food was simpler than their southern counterparts but far more hearty, though wine could be had. Brown and blacks beers were passed out. Honey meads, liquor, and more were had Brandon had spent a good deal of his investment on this feast.

He’d let it be known among the lords that this night was for them, not a feast honoring some great deed or great hero but as thanks for all they had done. For what all they could do together in the years to come, the North remembers and when kindness is done rewards would be given. Brandon would use tonight to hear from the Houses and their heirs to determine what course he might take as their Lord in the coming years. He was not the most skilled leader, nor did he have Barth’s abilities as a peerless warrior and tactician. Even Edric had fought Dorne in the conquest and against them when rebelled. He at least had the fame and honor of bringing Rickon’s body home after he’d been killed by the Dornish.

However Brandon had his fame as Cregan’s avenger, as one of the most capable warriors to ever take his blade southward. He had the support of his sisters and finally the blessing of the other northern houses for him to inherit over. Edric especially after his fuming. They did not trust his desires for more Northern influence over the crown especially with his grumbles over his father never receiving the Targaryen wife promised to Rickon which would have gone to him instead. However tonight was a celebration not brooding over love lost between brothers.


Sipping on the wine that had been placed next to her, Gwen looked around. She was going to play the part of a bright Southern jewel surrounded by Northern stark metal. Brushed and polished metal was still glorious, jewels just enhanced the metal making it more valuable. Saying little would hopefully appease the harsh reprimand that had been handed down from Sylvara, though Gwen doubted it. It would have been better to have fought it out with her foster mother but that was never really Gwen’s way. She loved her fiercely and all the other Starks and people of not only Winterfell but the North. She had never been made to feel apart from all of it.

Never having been in as much trouble as she was now, Gwen defaulted to silence, though not sullen silence for the atmosphere was to merry for that. Pondering what exactly was in store for her was more torture than Sylvara could come up with and it gaulled Gwen to know that was exactly what her foster mother wanted. But once one knew what was expected of oneself it was easy enough to let it go and just enjoy what she could at present. Though the cousins were not going to get her to sing. That was something she really only wanted a select few to know. Those who called Winterfell home knew but also knew that she was shy about it. So she sat and sipped her wine eating and speaking softly to those around her be they servant, knight, sworn sword or family.

It was one event after another since she arrived down south. So unlike the dreariness and staunch stoicism of the North - though not completely unwelcomed. After arriving at Summerhall, Raelith was bombarded and approached to attend some gathering that was held only for the ladies in attendance. Most likely in hopes to incur some sort of bonding between the women there, an experience that the Bolton didn’t see the point in.

Alas, she attended, if only for a moment and only for the purpose of gaining information to use against them at some point. It was the part she could play in the South and she played it well. Of course it was a lot easier when those she decided to extort knew not of her true identity. Once it was out that there was a Bolton in the midst of something, lips seemed to tighten and it was more difficult to pull secrets from them.

So there she sat, beside her betrothed, looking out over the feast that was taking place for the houses of the North. Another show of comradery and bonding. The entirety of it felt… theatrical. A means to show off before the others; whether good-naturedly or not it did not matter to her. It was all the same. Raelith took notice that although they were friendly towards one another that her dearest husband-to-be had his mind elsewhere. Clearly wanting to be somewhere other than atop the dias. She would have been hurt by this observation but it wouldn’t do her well to let something as trivial as this bother her and instead sipped on her goblet, eyes scanning the hall once more.

Jornar set his mug down having downed another of the northern ale he had been left without for so long.  Though he had acquired a taste and appreciation for the southern food and drink, nothing could beat the taste of home that came with the bitter taste of most northern choices.  Besides the welcoming food and drink, Jornar was happy to be amongst family and friends again even if it was for a short time.  He did not envy the duty of his lord uncle in having to rangle the northern lords and keep them in line.  Of course Northerns would never disobey a command from the lords of winterfell, but they were also a proud kind of people and when ale flowed tempers usually followed.  

But that is what truly made for a proper Northern celebration.  Drinking and eating with family and friends while telling grand tales of adventures and battle past.  And should a fight break out the two parties would end it quickly and be friends by morning nursing their headaches.  Jornar couldn't help but smile at the thought of how things were so different yet similar to the other feast he had been to in the south.  

As he finished looking over the guest of the celebration Jornar turned to face a friend he had not seen in many years even before he left to travel the south.  The little girl from winterfell with the fire kissed hair.  Though she was a small scrawny thing back then, now she threatened to stand even taller than he was.  [color=007236]“Why the long face my lady?  This is supposed to be a celebration after all." [/color]  Jornar paused for a moment as his eye flicked between Gwen and his aunt.  [color=007236]“Ah let me guess you got on the bad side of the bear again." [/color]He finished with a smile, hoping to lighten her mode a bit rather than worsen hers.

Gwen smiled at Jornar. [color=dcd0ff]"That I did. I'm still convinced she shifts into a bear. Still wandering around the seven kingdoms toppling knights like block towers? Any predictions on who might win the competitions?" [/color]She was glad for the interruption in her silence and the excuse Jornar made for it.

Leaning over Gwen gave all her attention to Jornar. She normally did anyway because of the interesting dichotomy of Northern Hedge Knight that toured the South. She was eager to hear more about his time away. Her excitement in hearing his recounting made her smile lift on one side and deepen her dimple on that same side.

Jornar smiled at the theory of his dear aunt and the hidden talent it seemed all mormont women had of scarring those around them.  [color=007236]“I would be surprised if she did.  Of all the foes in the kingdom she is the last one I would want to fight." [/color]He paused for a moment giving a glance towards his aunt and giving an exaggerated shiver of fear at the thought. [color=007236] “But Aye, I'm still touring through the many keeps of the south.  Doing my part to ensure some of these upstart knights remain humble in their careers." [/color]he ended with a smirk at his rather good record of tournament entries.  He thought for a moment though at the amount of competition that would be present for this grand occasion. [color=007236] “I would like to say myself of course but nearly every knight and warrior alike will be present so things should get interesting." [/color]Just the thought had already begun to get Jornar excited for the following days to come and the true competition it would bring. [color=007236] “The grand Melee though should be when us Northerners truly shine.  I imagine most of the fresh knights will be too disoriented in such an unorganized scrap.  But what about you my Lady have you placed any bets on the competition thus far?" [/color]

Grinning Gwen picked up on his excitement and bandered back. [color=dcd0ff]"I have. I put my money on my cousin Ashe. If any of the Princes decide to take the field I will be betting on them. Baelor after all got his name by being the only one to beat Deamon." [/color]

Taking a sip of wine Gwen looked over the festivities and nodded at Mathias. [color=dcd0ff]“Maybe Mathias would do well but the melee isn’t Ashe’s forte. Hit and run is more his style. Gryff might do well if he isn’t overwhelmed. I can understand if certain houses agree to start out together to take out other houses and leave a good fighter for the last man in the group. I would think it is more political if done right than just a mere chance that your skill can beat another." [/color]She smirked, intent on drawing him into conversation about tactics since he had fought in tournaments before.

Mathias chuckled. [color=Silver]“I’ll do my best in the Melee dear cousin but in truth I’m more likely to do well in the joust than the melee. For all my size and strength I do not have nearly grace of Gryffith." [/color]He added chuckling as he looked down at the quiet lad who had barely touched his beer. [color=Silver]“Perhaps you two have some good stories to share from all your time traveling? I admit I’m curious. Uncle and father rarely talk much of the Southern lords.” [/color]

[color=Silver]“Well... Don’t discount yourself too much Mathias. You are coming along well. You don’t have my foot work or finesse but I doubt I could stop your blows dead on." [/color]He reminded his cousin before turning towards their Mormont family. [color=Silver]“Though I don’t have nearly the experience fighting southerners like Jornar, perhaps you can help me prepare for what the melee will be like?" [/color]The massive bastard son of Barth asked as he then ripped the meat from a chicken leg in one bite as his cousin talked.

Brandon chuckled as he looked at the boys. [color=Silver]“Gods, reminds me of when I was young. Dragged Barth down to one of these... Man went into the melee when about a dozen knights turned to try and stop him didn’t want him winning the coin I guess. I went to help my brother... Only to find he bashed one down on the ground then picked him up to throw him at the others!" [/color]He laughed while lifting his beer. [color=Silver]“Barth laid into them one after another, he was a right demon in the center of a melee. When he lost his sword he went to punching and grappling them. You’d never seen knights so confused." [/color]The usually more quiet and careful lord enjoyed the night of his family all around to loosen up and tell stories it seemed.

Sylvara elbowed Ashe. [color=Silver]“I would have paid to see the looks on their faces. I’ve seen that painting of all the boys before they went off to Dorne. Barth must have been like fighting the mountain itself even though I am loath to channel our Lord, even if I didn’t threaten to deck him in the face if he didn’t approve of our marriage." [/color]She leaned on her husband's arm happy they were finally in their own element.

Ashe shifted quietly, the others talked of melees, honor, and glory... He had little of that. He was not a great fighter certainly he could use a pair of long knives as well as any other, even hold off Mathias or dance around Gryff but he was some great warrior or respected son. Yet here he sat next to one of the most radiant women in the North, a Bolton, one of the most important Bannermen in the North. He wanted to show her how skilled he was, how would honor and care for her... But he had little to offer save for the chance of winning the competition tomorrow and the promise she would be Lady of Winterfell when he ascended. He spoke quietly just to Raelith. [color=Silver]“I hope you had a pleasant trip... I am so happy you are here. I’ve been wanting to see you for a while. I brought you a gift for later." [/color]He added before giving a small blush and staring down into his tankard.

Beylee for her part tried to reach over and swipe something from the deserts before she had even touched any of the food. The girl looked towards the instruments as she thought of trying to convince her siblings to play and sing, it had been so long since they had performed for anyone together.

The raven haired beauty turned to her husband to be, the smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, though it was perfected enough it could fool even the most cunning of folks. [color=LightPink]“It was… as pleasant of a trip as it could have been, traveling with my green nephew and Brachyllo. The two of them together spell out disaster if I am not there to cull the pissing contest," [/color]this time her smile was genuine.

It always was when speaking of things that made her pulse pick up.

Raelith took notice of his squirming, of the way he listened on to his cousins speak about melee tourneys and events. It was no secret that Ashe wasn’t the most combat forward of the Starks, his methods teetering on more small bladed works and archery. It meant little to her, she herself knew only to wield blades and Gods was she skilled. 

Placing a hand on his shoulders, lithe fingers dancing along the fabric, she leaned in enough for only him to hear, [color=LightPink]“Concern yourself not with their fanciful talk. Anyone can swing a sword; it takes a master to let loose an arrow successfully." [/color]Hands running up and down his arm, squeezing and kneading the flesh beneath her palm every now and then, as if to punctuate her words, [color=LightPink]“A wolf doesn’t not concern himself with his prey.”[/color]

Sasja was doing her best to covertly slip little bits of meat to her newly acquired pet, a ferret she had immediately dubbed ‘Ser Minkens’ after his energetic, friendly face and sharp teeth had caught her eye out at the markets. She’d heard that some people used such creatures to hunt rabbits and other small game, and besides that he seemed too cute and energetic to ignore and leave trapped in a cage. Her other gift from the market was from Gwen, a beautiful Dornish recurve bow she planned to put to use in the archery tournament tomorrow. Wait til Ashe got a look at that, ha! She’d tested the draw and found that for her size, it was better and more manageable than any longbow. She might even have a chance to win it all! At the least, that’s what she told herself. She was probably a few years yet from being good enough, even if she was a remarkable shot for her age. After a few minutes of fussing over Ser Minkens and letting him burrow into the hood of her cloak, she was distracted from her dreams of glory and her new pet by Beylee’s pastry thievery and decided to join in, only pausing to tuck some of her meat away to try and train her ferret with later.

Jornar looked between his extended family, happy to have finally been around familiar faces and able to enjoy the company of family.  To add to this fact was the idea of being able to potentially compete both with and against Gryffith and Mathias  just like the days back at Bear Island and Winterfell when they would visit each other.  [color=007236]“We should still have some time to spar before the real events start.  Between the three of us we should stand a decent chance of bringing some glory to the north." [/color]  he finished as he triumphantly lifted his mug in the air chugging the rest of its contents.

As Jornar let the mug hit the table he contemplated what Gwen said about the grand melee and the ideas of politics and alliances.  Though he was not one for the battlefield that took place in court halls and behind ones back his time in the south taught him she was most likely right in her assumption. [color=007236] “Gwen speaks the truth about how the melee will go.  It won't just be a chaotic mess, though it may seem like it when it all starts.  Some of the other houses will start working together trying to clear out the competition to help their chosen fighter win in the end.  It would be in our best interest to watch each other's backs, at least at the start.  Our main threats are going to be the dragons and whatever house tries to gain favor by protecting them, not that they need any." [/color]

[color=007236]“Either way, it will be good to see how you both have grown since the last time we sparred." [/color]  he said as he leaned back a bit in his chair relaxing a bit more. [color=007236] “And besides, tournaments like these are always a good way to show off for the fair maidens watching from the crowds." [/color]  as he finished Jornar let out a wince as he felt a sharp pain from where his sister Janas had swiftly placed her elbow. [color=007236] “What did you do that for?  I was kidding…. Mostly." [/color] 

Pressing her lips together Gwen hid a smile and contained a laugh at Jornar's reaction when his sister elbowed him. [color=dcd0ff]"Thank you Jornar for the compliment." [/color]She’d noticed Ashe being quiet which she thought was out of character for him. Possibly because Raelith was paying him her undivided attention. Drawing them into the conversation she brought up the archery contest. [color=dcd0ff]"I for one would bet that Ashe is the greatest archer in all Westeros. Woe be the person who bets against him."[/color]

Ashe blushed a moment at Raelith’s words then gently moved his hand into her own to hold it. [color=Silver]“Thank you... It’s nice to have someone other than Gwen and Sasja tell me I’m more than just a wild wolf causing my father no end of grievance." [/color]He then took a breath focusing himself, calming down before his betrothed got too worked up. As he opened his eyes he caught Gwen’s boast of his skill before chuckling slowly easing into being around the others and Raelith. [color=Silver]“I may be... But Sasja’s twice as good as I was her age and far quieter. I wager that within a few more years we’d be the most deadly marksman and markswoman in all of Westeros." [/color]He spoke with a smile, proud of his little cousin as he held Raelith’s hand face still aglow but clearly more comfortable.

Griffith laughed, knocking back his mug finally. [color=Silver]“My brother had a bow since he was strong enough to pull one back. Mom always said it’s why he’s got arms like a bear." [/color]He teased as he nodded. [color=Silver]“I’d like that Jornar, though I’ll pass on the maidens I don’t need the attention... But we ought to take some money home... Maybe spend it on getting some proper boats to and from Bear Island?" [/color]He chuckled knowing while many Southerners would spend it on women and wine Northerners learned to... Practical in their spending or at least make sure they got a damn good deal.

Sylvara chuckled as Jornar was elbowed. [color=Silver]“Leave him, boys will be boys. After all they can chase dainty southern lasses, real North men like their women with a bit of fire in their soul and blood on their hands. Only place to get that is beyond the prissy southlands, no wonder you spend so much time here probably have enough gold to rebuild the hall when you get home." [/color]She locked Brandon’s head as gasped and tried to pull away as he grabbed at her arm clearly both were playful more than serious.

Brandon pried her off from around his neck rolling his eyes. [color=Silver]“Just don’t be like Barth, no woman to keep him company or tell him off when he’s got a bad plan." [/color]He rolled his eyes. [color=Silver]“Man hears there might be a rebellion from Edric and starts putting together our entire army." [/color]He put an arm around Sylvara as the pair kept drinking. [color=Silver]“He still acts like the young man who went off to conquer Dorne with his brothers.”[/color]

Mathias spoke up next, curious. [color=Silver]“Do you really think that many women will be interested in us just for fighting well?" [/color]He asked clearly that Mathias had little idea what to do with noble women and even less how to handle the proceedings when approached by one. He was Barth’s son and one who assumed few would care for a bastard line with little to gain especially thanks to his lack of ambition and love for his family. He would not be a usurper even if he had a legitimate claim to the throne.

Ashe chuckled watching Gryff a moment before adding in a whisper. [color=Silver]“Personally I think he’s already got a girl he’s chasing after... Betting it’s a southern born lady from a powerful house, he’s giving dad a headache with that I’m sure.”[/color]

Beylee of course flashed a grin as Sasja joined in and she passed over a sweet roll with raspberry filling and thick honey glaze. Before she set her sights on something bigger, namely still steaming hot nut log with a glaze made from honeyed apples poured over it. Expensive and delicious treat no doubt was far rarer to the pair than the meats before them.

Jornar couldn't help but laugh as he watched his aunt grab his uncle in a headlock with little effort as she continued to talk to the rest of the family.  In any other hall such an act would have been considered a taboo,  but here it was almost a sign of love and affection between the couple.  It also served as a reminder that any women from the north, especially one with a Mormont name was not to be taken lightly.  

Jornar then turned his attention to Mathias and his questioning of the effect knights had on the ladies of the realm. [color=007236] “Well you do need the looks to back it up, but being the knight in shining armor that wins the tourney pushes ahead of the rest.  Of course embarrassing the competition on the field also helps your chances." [/color]  he ended with a smirk before he looked towards Griffith. [color=007236] “But that is a good idea for the money, I'm sure my father would be more than happy to see that happen.  But speaking of a bear with a bow I must warn you my sister has come a long way since we were kids." [/color]  as he spoke he placed a hand on her shoulder shaking her a bit as he leaned forward in order to see the young heir to the north. [color=007236] “I dare say she might even challenge you soon." [/color]

Smirking, Gwen set down her wine that she had barely sipped and decided to eat more of her food. She cut pieces of venison and chewed thoughtfully as Ashe praised Sasja. She did and did not like being overlooked when it came to her abilities. She liked being overlooked because then no one expected you to perform at the level you did. She did not like it because it made her an outsider. 

Gryff’s comment about not needing maids after him made Gwen glance over at him quickly as she took a small forkful of greens.[color=dcd0ff][i]Oh no, of course not. You have your betrothed all picked out.[/i][/color]

Gwen did not believe that they did it on purpose just like Aunt Sylvara’s comment was not really about her, yet it was. She was a North girl but she was not all at once. Or perhaps she just felt like no one fully saw her. Ashe was the closest and she wondered if anyone really did. Uncle Bran and Uncle Barth most certainly did not. Uncle Edric had likely discounted her early on. More the fool he was. Mathias kept to himself a veritable giant that was constantly looking to make his father proud and have the attention he deserved. Gryff… blind to things around him, if her experience was anything to go by. If not blind then too noble to admit that he knew she had been infatuated with him since she was eight. And that was just as bad, if not worse. Beylee was a damned goody-goody who was going to wind up the size of a bear if she did not stop eating everything in sight.

The bloody twins, as Gwen thought of them, stayed away from her thankfully as did Gwen. Not being around for their tempers after one time seeing the display was more than enough for her. Aggie was everything Auntie Syl hated about Southern women but without the full polish of one. The old maid of the house. In her thirties and still not married off. It was her superior attitude. No man wanted a viper to house. Araya was the only one that Gwen could stomach. A quiet intelligent woman who, had she been a man, would have been content to be a Maester.

She supposed it was really her fault for being so… changeable. She caught the tail end of Uncle Bran’s statement about Edric and a rebellion and Barth gathering up men.[color=dcd0ff][i] About gods damned time someone took him seriously. The bloody knife you do not expect is the one that will end you. Historically men passed over for a younger sibling did not take it well. I really do not want to [b]ever[/b] be right about that [b]or[/b] my Uncle Tobias.[/i][/color]

Finishing off her food with a soft yeasty roll Gwen tapped her plate with the sauces on it taking bites that filled her mouth so she would not be tempted to speak. Raising her eyes and an eyebrow she regarded Mathias as he puzzled about women.[color=dcd0ff][i] Really? Did he not remember the fact that the last woebegotten Bard that came near Winterfell was loose of lip? Though perhaps Mathias was not listening as closely to the stories as others were.[/i][/color]

Finishing off the roll Gwen narrowed her eyes as she saw Ashe whisper but did not catch what he said exactly. Movement caught her eye before she should poke at what Ashe had said. Beylee. Beylee stuffing her face with sweets. She rolled her eyes as she watched Beylee passing them on to Sasja. Sasja who could use a few to be honest. [color=dcd0ff]“Beylee you’re being greedy. I see you eying that nut log. If you eat the whole thing, along with the rest of the desert table you’ll get a bellyache. Besides being too much for your horse, gods forbid the wagon.”[/color]

Sasja froze when she heard Gwen call out to Beylee about the sweets, midway through the raspberry jam filled pastry. She visibly relaxed when she wasn’t included in the reprimand, though she was more confused than relieved. Maybe Gwen hadn’t actually seen her? Still, she couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. As she finished off the treat in her mouth she slipped a dagger from her boot and cut off  a slice of the nut log, wrapping it up and tucking it into her cloak. Ser Minkens squirmed and hissed in surprise as the maneuver put the little parcel a little too close for his comfort. She shushed him and glanced back over at Gwen warily. With luck, she’d sneak part of it to Beylee later as thanks for the distraction.

Sasja hadn’t been paying enough attention to catch the discussion of possible rebellion, too fixated on her ‘mission’. Her ears weren’t so dulled from the task at hand that she was completely deaf though. She grinned through a mouthful of raspberry sweet roll and swallowed, doing her best to ignore her own blushing with a boast. [color=Green]“We’ll see Ashe! Come tomorrow I could finally beat you!" [/color]She hadn’t shown him the new Dornish bow yet. Let that be her secret weapon in the coming contest. But really? Greatest markswoman in Westeros in a few years? If that wasn’t empty boasting on Ashe’s part, then perhaps she’d been underestimating herself. Or else the Southron lords weren’t much for archery. War and tourney glory were tomorrow’s concern though. For now, maybe she could sneak another slice of the nut log, less to share with Beylee…