Chapter Text
Jorah died seeing her face for the last time. Now he was Jorah Mormont again. His family had made a tradition of naming the first son Jorah after Lyanna learned of his death and made it herself. Her sons and daughters picked the name from her and the rest that came after followed.
This time he had too many siblings and cousins to count. He was the third son of the Lord of Bear Island. Since his two older brothers were born sickly, his father saved the name for the next one. So it was only luck that he had obtained his name again.
He had one sister and then came Tormund. They were three years apart but because they were the only ones healthy enough to play outside or interested to do it, they were closer. After Tormund came Joel and the others, but Joel had the habit of following them everywhere so Jorah and Tormurd used to take him to play and explore on their backs when he was a little child.
Their father and uncles and aunts were proud of being Mormonts, their island had grown a lot more, especially since they stopped battling the Greyjoys every once in a while.
The Mormonts were of the best fighters that the Starks had, the other house that rivaled them was House Giantsbane, located where House Umber used to be. At the age of nine his grandfather took him to the training field with his older cousins. Tormund and Joel followed from the safety of their fathers grasped hands.
Lord Mormont showed his son every weapon available in the yard. Axes, spears, swords, arraks, bow and arrows, hammers and knives. He told him to choose one and that that would become his instrument for the rest of his life. He tried all of them and chose a sword in the end. Tormund was too anxious to wait until nine so he begged to be allowed to train too, despite being six years old.
At the age of seven, after constant nagging, he was also allowed to go with his older sister and Jorah. He took an axe and refused any other weapon on the training yard that day. Their sister chose the bow and arrow. In the years to come they would train every morning with their father to use every weapon available and on afternoons they would practice with their own.
"Mormonts have to know how to fight with everything they have on hand so they'll make the North proud", their grandfather said. He also told them that Lord Stark used to go once a while to every House to see which were the best fighters so he could take them to Winterfell and train them himself. That was the greatest honor that the boys thought they could receive.
When Joel was nine, he chose a spear. No one even tried to choose those ones. Tormund laughed about it.
"Don't you see the doors on this castle?" He pointed to the wooden carved doors. "They have axes, bows and swords. What kind of Mormont are you?"
"The best one." Jorah answered, smiling at his little brother. Joel beamed.
Jorah had blonde hair, blue eyes and a lean body. Where Tormund was a broad shoulder ginger with blue eyes. Joel had Jorah's complexion with Tor's shoulders but still managed to be lean.
The first time Lord Stark called the Bear Islanders to his Halls and they were taken with the others, they were excited. Jorah was fourteen and Tormund eleven. Joel stayed behind with their younger siblings.
Lord Mormont took Jorah aside before arriving.
"I know that you are not the oldest, but your brothers still cannot travel this far, so the responsibility of showing the other Houses what a Mormont is, relies on your shoulders. They will be measuring you, don't show any fear, son."
Jorah nodded solemnly.
"Also, our House might be strong but it's not wealthy. The richer boys could try to mock you…"
"I won't let them." He replied hurriedly.
"I know, son. Remember our House's words. Here we stand. Always."
"Yes, father."
Lord Stark was impressed with his abilities with the sword so he offered to take him and train him with his own sons. Lord Mormont agreed instantly, clapping his son on the shoulder with mirth on his expression. Tormund moaned all the way back to Bear Island about the unfairness of it all.
"What am I supposed to do now? Spend my time with Joel and his spear? When will you come back anyway?"
"I'll be allowed to come back once or twice a year. Don't worry, you will come too. Do try not to hack Lord Stark's son's head next time."
"He was too slow, it's his own fault." Tormund grouched.
At fifteen, he was one of the best fighters Lord Stark had in his training yard. He could use all size of swords and knives. Lord Stark was so happy with his development that he let him go home a fortnight before his time. Tormund was exhilarated, he complained that Joel started spending more time with their cousins, obviously he didn't mention that it was because of all his teasing.
The two of them had spend the entire day resting under the sun. Tormund suddenly got up, with a gleam in his eyes.
"Let's go to the weirdwood tree, Jor."
He lazily opened an eye and looked at his brother.
"It's on the other side of the island. No one goes there anymore."
"Let's go anyway."
He looked at Tormund and knew that he was going to go anyway because if he didn't his brother would go alone. He slowly got up and took his satchel with that days hunt.
"Alright."
They walked for hours teasing each other and laughing. They didn't noticed that they couldn't hear animals anymore or that even the sound of the stream had quietened. When they reached the tree, Jorah kept having the feeling that he was being watched and it prickled the hairs at the back of his head. He didn't say anything to Tormund so he wouldn't seem weak in front of the fearless ginger.
They were rounding the tree when a little opening showed up, it was big enough to crawl inside.
"That wasn't there before." He said out loud.
"Then let's see what we can find." Tor was already going under. He begrudgingly went after his brother.
The inside of the tree seemed bigger than the outside, and Jorah wondered how that was possible.
"Weirdwood trees have that ability." A voice answered.
Tormund looked at him, he wasn't the only one that heard it. That was a comfort. Even if they couldn't see anyone around. A set of brown eyes opened in front of him, and that's when he saw him, a boy his age, looking straight through him.
"Hello." The boy said, he looked as if the tree had been growing around him and he didn't bother to move, so the roots trapped him in it. He was siting on a wooden chair that had roots, leaves and flowers on it. Almost everything was covered in green musk.
"Hello." Tormund answered back. "Who are you?"
"The Three Eyed Raven." The boy stared at the red haired one and Jorah, and added. "But you used to call me Bran."
Jorah already had his hand on his knife. He was mistrustful of someone they had never met, they were on an island, it was impossible not to know everyone.
"You won't need that. Not now though."
"When did we met?" Tormund pressed. Jorah thought that his fearlessness was going to get him killed someday.
"A long time ago. I can show you if you want." He extended a hand towards them.
"Tor, we need to go." He tried to pull his brother back, but the other was already reaching for the hand. His eyes turned white and Jorah took his knife when his own eyes turned. A voice inside his mind told him to calm down.
It was as if he awakened after his death. In what seemed like forever he saw his entire previous life and death. He opened his eyes to look at his hands, the blood and mud of the battlefield not there anymore. But her screams still echoed through him, that made him shiver. He could almost feel every cut and stab under his skin, it made him itch.
Tormund on the other hand was smiling maniacally. He lunged at him laughing.
"Mormont!" He screamed. It took Jorah only a second to realize the way he said it.
"Giantsbane?" He was bewildered. The other laughed even harder.
"How is this possible?" He looked at Bran Stark, who had not aged one bit, stuck in time.
"I don't know. All I know is that I knew I would see you again."
Why? He asked himself, he couldn't believe it yet.
"Are there others like us?"
"Awake? No, you are the first ones. But the others will know eventually."
"The big woman?" Tormund asked instantly. Jorah admired him for it, he didn't dare ask about Daenerys.
"Yes." Bran smiled.
"Ha!" Little twelve year old Tormund celebrated. Jorah still couldn't believe it.
"They are coming, aren't they?" He gathered the courage to ask.
"They are." Bran stared at him.
"How will we know who is who?" He was worried about the possibilities, a reminiscence of the older warrior lingered inside his mind.
"When you touch them or when someone else already awake touches them, they'll awaken."
"So we are here to awake the others?"
"Partly, also, I liked the weather in this island."
Tormund laughed even more in joy.
"When will we meet the others?"
"That depends on you. But you might find a few in Winterfell."
"That's in a few weeks. Who will I meet?"
"Sandor Clegane and Jaime Lannister surely. The Starks could be there. Probably Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion, depends on their families staying or not in Winterfell by the time you come back."
"When will I meet the woman?" Tormund asked eagerly.
"When you turn 15 if everything goes as I see it."
Tormund celebrated again. Jorah repressed a laugh. They talked with Bran for hours. He answered almost every question they had and for some of them he has a cryptic reply. In the end, he told them that it was getting dark and that they should go back to the castle.
"Be careful with this gift. Some may think you insane if you tell." He warned them before they left. Both agreed to keep it to themselves.
On the way back Tormund showed signs of being the old wildling he had met before. He was even more merry than he used to be.
"Why didn't you ask about her? The Queen?" Tormund turned to look at him.
"I would rather it to be a surprise." He lied, the truth was that he was scared.
"Well, when I meet the big woman I'm going to court her."
Jorah looked at his little brother, Tormund Giantsbane now, and half smiled. He seemed comfortable being both at the same time.
He on the other hand was struggling to accept the old Jorah. The memories he had seen seemed more like a dream than a reality. Besides the House counted on him to do the right thing, and even if his father didn't say it, he was being prepared to become the next Lord Mormont in case something happened to his brothers. He couldn't fail his family this time, he had a duty to fulfill. Daenerys would have to wait, he was still young and he wanted to take advantage of it before even meeting her.
The next weeks he spent them with his family. Specially Joel, the boy had grown taller in the year he was gone. He watched him train on the yard with the spear. It was as if he was born with one on his hand.
"Do you think he's Grey Worm?" Asked Tormund who had scurried beside him.
"I don't know, we should have asked Bran about it."
"We can ask him now." Tormund's little eyebrow lifted suggestively. Too used to agree to his brother's schemes he said yes automatically.
Bran told them that no, he wasn't Grey Worm but that he would bring him into their lives again. Jorah also asked about the awakening, how did it work mostly.
"You will know when you touch them. Some will bring only their memories of them back into you mind, others will bring also the feelings that your old self used to have for them. In some cases you will feel the pain of an old wound. It depends. The same could happen to them."
He got even more worried. If he found her and touch her… He could go through all of his emotions for her again. He left the tree a bit sullen, thinking about it.
When it was time to go back to Winterfell his father told him that Tormund would accompany him. He had the task of keeping him safe, now even more that the wildling had come back. They left with their uncle to Winterfell early in the morning. Jorah watched the castle from the ship until the entire island disappeared from sight. He hoped things were better this time.