Tourney at Harrenhal Part 8
Mid 281 False Spring
The Tourney at Harrenhal, despite its insanity, made Ulfric 'Stormcloak' Mormont enough money to live a lifestyle his Grandfather would bemoan as lavish for the rest of his life, and he only had to break the legs of three bookies before the rest wised up and paid him his winnings with a pained smile. He'd of course lost a fair bit of coin when Lord Whent cut a deal with his father to get him pushed back in the lists, but why cry for stags when sleeping on a bed of dragons?
Of course, his dealings here at Harrenhal became far more tense after his brother Galmar began bragging about their father taking the Whent girl as a concubine. When the boy told people about their father taking savage wildlings as Salt Wives it had all been happy laughter and hearty back slaps and bawdy jokes. When it's a seven fearing southron lass of fine breeding, those smiling acquaintances transformed into angry strangers ready to form a mob and string their father and his sons up. Talking about giving their sister the same treatment as the Whent girl.
And Jorah Mormont only laughed louder and reveled harder, taking that Whent girl over and over so that her pleasured screams concocted a sexual symphony that reverberated across the vast stonescape of Harrenhal. He poured oil on the pyre and danced atop it as hundreds came bearing their torches.
The only sign that the Lord of Bear Island prepared any kind of defense was the gift of six princely sets of fitted and articulated battlefield plate armor to Greatjon Umber, Robett Glover, Roger Ryswell, Timotty Flint of Flint's Finger, Torghen Flint of the Mountains, and Hugo 'Big Bucket' Wull. While the tensions rose, these men became more and more giddy, practically prancing into the closing feast.
As a champion of one of the big three events, Ulfric sat at the high table along with his father who won both the archery contest and seemingly formed a friendship with the Mad King. Like mind cleaving to like mind some might say, for was a man rumored to burn criminals truly much different than a man who hacked his enemies to pieces to feed the local fish population? His father felt his actions over the years heroic, did King Aerys II feel the same? The Lord of Bear Island used spectacular shows of barbarism to cow others, his rivals and his thralls. King Aerys II likely used public burnings for the same effect.
Ulfric found it all distasteful, but appreciated the fear his father's reputation instilled in others. It was the kind of fear that keeps others honest. The world is cruel to the naïve, and when you're young you don't have much choice in the matter of your own naivety, so it's better to have the phantom of a tyrant father hanging over you than having your ass hurt every time you deal with someone older or more clever.
But Ulfric worried at the open vindictiveness on Lord Walter Whent's face when Aerys publicly asked him what boon the man would like for hosting such a fabulous event.
"Your Grace, all I ask is for the King's Justice to be served." Lord Whent began and glared at Jorah Mormont who's teeth glinted white under his thick and dark beard, "I ask for the King's Justice in the atrocious matter of the rape of my daughter, Liara Whent, by the Lord of Bear Island, Jorah Mormont."
Ulfric couldn't tell if the cries of outrage were real or a part of some plot against his father. Many of the assembled nobility of the seven kingdom's bayed for Jorah Mormont's blood, but the Lord of Bear Island only looked satisfied by this turn of events. As if all was going exactly as he planned.
Eventually, the Kingsguard managed to make enough noise to restore order so the king could address the matter.
"Lord Whent accuses Lord Mormont of the rape of his daughter, Liara Whent." Aerys snarled and turned to face his father at the table, "How do you plead, Lord Mormont."
Jorah Mormont stood, a mountain of a man compared to the others at the table save his own son. His father calmly waited out the jeers of his peers before addressing the accusation.
"I don't plead." Jorah began, "I counter claim against Lord Whent for bearing false testament in an attempt to wiggle out of paying what he owes to me. This man owes me twenty two thousand gold dragons, and gave his daughter to me willingly. There can be no rape between myself and Liara Whent, for she is mine by the will of her father. There shall be one final grand spectacle for this legendary tournament, for this I shall prove by invoking my right to a Trial by the Seven."
King Aerys pounded the table himself to silence the outcry against Jorah's statement. Many cried out against a Northman heathen invoking the Seven for justice.
"Lord Mormont!" King Aerys shouted over the dying roars, so eager to address this turn of events, "Lord Mormont, do you truly wish to invoke the justice of your accuser's gods?"
"Aye, my King." Jorah nodded his huge head, "I am so sure of the justice of my claim, and the perfidiousness of Lord Whent's, that not even the gods he worships will deliver him from me."
"HAHAHAHA!" King Aerys cackled in joy, "Well said, well said! So it shall be. At dawn, seven champions shall represent the accusation of Lord Whent, and seven champions shall represent the counter-accusation of Lord Mormont. If either side fails to raise up the seven champions then they shall be found guilty and subject to judgment of the Crown."
From the cries of the crowd, Lord Whent would have the pick of Westeros for his seven champions, and from the eager smiles on the faces of Jorah's friends, neither would he struggle to make the number.
"The gods shall provide all the proof of my claim, your grace." Lord Whent announced, "But Lord Mormont wields the magical Valyrian Steel; surely, that piece of power from old Valyria grants him an unfair advantage in such a trial."
"You should have thought of that when you levied your accusation, Lord Whent." King Aerys sneered, causing Lord Whent's confidence to falter.
"I can put down my Valyrian Steel so long as all others chosen for the trial do the same, for I am confident in my claim." Jorah declared, "But Lord Whent must agree that the trial will be conducted on foot."
"Agreed." Lord Whent nodded and both lords requested the King's leave to go and gather their champions.
Aerys nodded his assent, and many of the assembled lords of the south booed and jeered the Lord of Bear Island as he made his way from the Hall of a Hundred Hearth's. Ulfric had trouble following in his wake and had to travel around the crowd of angry nobility.
When he finally made it back to their camp, he once again heard the cries of Liara Whent, but this time he ignored those screams of ecstasy and entered his father's dwelling. Ulfric found them atop a conditioned bearskin spread over the ground, but couldn't see Liara save her feet held in the air by his father's massive hands locked around her ankles. The only thing keeping the huge hairy mass of bear man from smothering the girl was the vast tracts of muscle tight and bulging across his back as the man hammered the southern flower with just the might of his hips, ass, and hamstrings in a sexual variant of a familiar exercise Ulfric performed daily for many years, one that built up his incredible speed and leaping ability. The fact that his father could perform the movement for the full length of an audibly satisfying bedding further proved that the man was not formed of the same clay as other men.
"Father." Ulfric addressed the man, yet he did not stop his rutting, he never did in the many years the boy knew him, so Ulfric continued, "Why have you cause such a thing to happen? These southerners outnumber us ten to one and now call for our blood. Even when you win the trial tomorrow, will the roads home be safe? Will our revenues not be harmed by this great ill will generated?"
"I will carve my image into the collective consciousness of Westeros." Jorah answered while he continued performing aggressive freestanding nordic curls atop his concubine, "The Targaryens were considered god-like for their dragons. I shall be god-like through my mighty testicles and iron body."
"Then this calamity is just an exercise of your ego?" Ulfric snarled, feeling the noose of his father's insanity tightening around his neck.
"This world doesn't care for mice, boy. Only men." Ulfric looked away as his father grunted, signaling his release, so that the load would not forever stain his soul, "Live like a mouse, scurry in the shadows, fear everything, and you will die like a mouse whenever a real man chooses to end you. Live like a man, boy. Assert yourself. Keep doing it till it kills you. Then at least when you die, you'll have lived a life worth living. Stop talking like you're going to live forever by being an inoffensive meek little lamb. Everyone dies, boy. Not everyone lives."
His father had repositioned during his monologue and now stood near the family table with a hot towel hanging over his erection. On the floor was the quivering girl currently setting the hearts and minds of the south ablaze. Ulfric ran his hands through his hair trying to relieve some of his frustration and anxiety.
Looking at the moss green eyes of his father didn't help. They faintly glowed in the night like the last remnants of wildfire, and the boy had no idea how much his father truly saw through them. Were they all just marionettes dancing on his strings? Mummers in a play directed by a psychopath?
As his eyes fell upon the cursed felling axe whose runes glowed the same color as his father's eyes, he felt pity for the men to die on the morrow to further feed his father's unending appetite for glory. For fun. Those men would die for his father's fun.
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I've been working on this mother fucking chapter for months interrupted by all sorts of bullshit. It feels great to finally have the uninterrupted time to pound out a version of it that doesn't fucking suck.
In other happier news I've been commissioned to do some work on a beat'em up story called Fists and the Furious, so I finally get to feel like a professional about his business again. Big mood improvement. I'll keep trying to eek out progress on this story while that one keeps chugging along.
After this one, I'd like to do some sequel work on my Cyberpunk story where we go back in time and see Juan's story if the devil hadn't changed his original power, speed reading, to the Fallout System. I am approaching the limit author's have on this site for stories, so I'll post it as a new volume of 'In Cyberpunk with the Fallout System' and change the name of the story to 'In Cyberpunk without the Fallout System'.
So don't freak out when that eventually happens.
I'll probably have to figure out something similar for other stories too.
You can support me and my family at
ko - fi . com / jmanm