Early 279 Fall
Ulfric breathed in deeply, settling his nerves for the social interaction to come. Thus far his attempts to initiate romantic relations with Lyanna Stark ended in failure, but those were the uncouth fumblings of a boy, and after going into battle alongside her father, Ulfric 'Stormcloak' Mormont was a man. He steeled himself as the servant allowed him entrance into the parlor, and though the furnishings left much to be desired, the young lady inside did n…. Okay. Ulfric failed to lie to himself. Lyanna Stark was a willful ill mannered brat, but at least she looked good and better the bitch he knows than risk his future happiness on his father's thoughtless choice of Big Bucket's daughter. He literally picked the girl because she was the nearest quasi-cunny of close age to him.
The young man stood stiffly in front of the young lady and her minder - an old Nan of nannerly quality through and through - and cleared his throat of any flem and disuse.
"Lady Lyanna." he began fixing his eyes just above the head of his target so his monologue would not be thrown off by any expressions on her long and lovely face, "By now everyone in this castle knows of me and my intention to make you my bride, and they laugh quite frequently about my failures when they think they are just out of ear shot. Or perhaps they know I can hear and are just being cruel. No matter."
Ulfric cleared his throat again and continued after assuring himself he would not stray off his chosen topic again, "In the hope of kindling greater feeling within your heart for me, I have brought gifts from the Lands Beyond the Wall, where I served in battle alongside your father."
The young man thrust out the wool bag he carried and maintained his avoidance of looking directly at Lyanna who indicated with her head for the old Nan to take the gift. The elderly woman did so and opened the bag, reaching her hand within and withdrawing a salt preserved penis.
"What is that?" Lyanna shrieked in shock as her eyes grew wider and wider as she failed to look away from the desiccated dick.
"It's a cock." the old woman barked in disdain.
"It and thirty others like it are from warriors I killed in battle." Ulfric explained with stony determination, "Proof that I can protect you, and our children, as well as bring honor and glory to our union."
"Are you insane?" Lyanna yelled at him, causing Ulfric to frown.
"I assure you, Lady Lyanna, this method of wooing you is not something I have tried before." Ulfric answered, "I have always strived to approach you in new ways so as not to repeat what failed before."
Lyanna Stark stood up and yanked the salted cock out of her old Nan's hand and threw it Ulfric who finally locked eyes with her as his face filled with shock at her action.
"Get out!" she shouted in a rage, "And take your bag of cocks with you!"
Ulfric left with all the grace and dignity of a baby cow, his emotions in turmoil as he failed once again to woo the Lady Lyanna Stark. As the door slammed shut behind him he stared at his bag of dicks in despair only to be brought back to the moment by the sound of snickering. Down the hall a pair of servants failed to hold their giggles at his misfortune. The young man felt an incredible need to hurt these two washer women, but restrained himself. Instead he simply walked over to them and thrust the bag into one of their hands.
"Take this." he told her then walked away.
"What am I to do with it?" the woman called to him and over his shoulder he responded with the only appropriate answer.
"Eat it."
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The fond memory of my son presenting Lyanna Stark with a bag of dicks fills my heart with a warm and shining joy that balances out the pure and murderous rage the letter in my hands generates. A fond farewell from Elia in which she announces to me her engagement with Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
My inner Bobby B intensifies.
It's more an instinctual thing than logical, but men have killed for far lesser and far dumber reasons in the past. Rather than give into that baser impulse I wrote Elia a letter wishing her the best and thanking her for leaving our son in the care of her mother as I did not like his odds as a bastard of the future queen in the capital. I also didn't like the odds of him getting murdered by Lannister collateral damage if he stayed with her after she marries into the royal family.
Nothing is certain any more, but if I had to put money on it...
What is certain is the fate of my wayward son, come home early before the winter can set in as a part of a prisoner exchange. I get released from Brandon Stark and Rickard gets released from Ulfric. I'd gathered his Wull wife as well as the wives for my other sons from Norrey, Liddle, and Burley. No one knows for certain how long the Winter will be, so better to get things in place before travel becomes potentially lethal.
My sons with Alissa were all born so closely together that not a single one of them was younger than I was during the ceremonies. The couples would all stay with me for the winter, and were not expected to perform any kind of 'marital duties'. We just needed to beat the season where the lethality level of travel skyrockets so everyone could attend. It was also convenient to get all these important weddings out of the way at once. My other kids getting quiet marriages to the children of my closest warriors is perfectly fine, but my kids through Alyssa were the mainline. Invitations flew out, expensive feasts were prepared, and thank God I renovated Mormont Keep, because if people saw the inside of Rockhall…
I don't think anyone would try to kill me for all the weirwood furniture, floors, decorations, and cladding on account of me currently carrying the belt for Scariest Man in Westeros, but people would 'talk', and as a man who currently enjoys near unchecked authority gifted by his liege lord I cannot tolerate people 'talking'. Personally have a lot riding on being one of the guys on the Tower of Joy mission. Having the identity of Jon Snow as Rheagar's spawn will be all I need to have the Warden of the North nicely tucked away in my pocket.
Then people can 'talk' all they like.
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"Boy." I greeted Ulfric as I enjoyed the warmth of my fireplace in the hours before dawn.
My son didn't look like a boy. Not anymore. Might have to figure out something new to call him.
"Father." he slumped into the armchair next to mine and let out a heavy sign.
"Speak." I commanded him.
"I…" Ulfric began and his voice cracked, "I am a laughing stock."
"Yes." I agreed, causing his countenance to fall.
"What am I supposed to do?" he begged with his face in his hands.
"Work." I answered.
"Work?" he shouted full of scorn for my one word answer.
"Yes." I affirmed, "Talk is easy. Moping is easy. Work is hard. It's going to take a lot to come back from giving the Stark girl a bag of salted cocks, not to mention all the other… romantic… attempts before that. So get to work."
"Isn't there something I can do to fix this? Some battle I can fight? Deed I can accomplish?" Ulfric once again begged for my advice.
"There's many things you can do, boy." I informed, "You could start skinning people who displease you, or run away to Essos. Or you can grow some thick skin and get to work, building yourself into a man so able and ready that no one of any substance cares about the boy you were."
"I…" Ulfric shook his head, " I could you some help with that."
I nodded, "I know."
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Based purely on the women he currently has access too and the cut off birth date of 284 for participation, Jorah will have 104 trueborn sons participating in whatever version of the War of Five Kings that takes place. The twenty or so Snows he dropped in Wintertown when he and Greatjon when cruising for sluts will fight for the Starks, and he'll also have 62 sons-in-law and a handful of grandchildren fighting for him. Not hundi on what the roughly 120 bastards he sired in Dorne will be doing.
I think those numbers put the Frey's to shame. Could be wrong though.
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