Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane

Chapter 1

That left five of them that might be chosen. She knew which of them wouldn't be.

"Hother," said Greatjon proudly, motioning for his third child, his second son, to rise. Though he'd recently married Lady Tory Karstark and become a father to twins Morsan and Torsten a year prior, he'd always been the most loyal to his family. He doted on his wife and children and would kill anyone who threatened their lives. This fight, he could not sit out. A slight to Lord Stark was a slight to them. "Will you fight to defend the North?"

He bowed his head toward his father. "Yes, I will."

"Aspen, Arnal," called Greatjon. The twins, his fourth and fifth children, stood to acknowledge him. They remained unmarried, neither satisfied with any of the matches that'd been presented to them. Arnal wanted a wife who could hunt with him, but the only women like that were his relatives, either sisters at Last Hearth or cousins on Bear Island. Aspen wanted a husband who could spar with her, and Harys Hornwood– the younger brother of Sigrid's husband, Daryn– was not up to par with her standards. "Will you fight to defend the North?"

"Yes, Father," they replied.

The youngest of them lowered her head, knowing who came next. Her name would not be called; she didn't want it to be. She supposed it would be fun to stay in Last Hearth with Esther and Sigrid, who she hadn't seen often since they married. Tory Karstark was good company, too. And as long as House Cerwyn was rising to the occasion, it meant her stay there wouldn't leave her betrothed to that boring Cley Cerwyn.

She had six nephews and four nieces she could spoil rotten. Those that lived with them already adored being carried around on her shoulders. It would be an opportunity to bond with those she hardly knew, to teach them while her sisters got some much-needed rest. The wife of her eldest brother had just given birth to little Amaryllis, and though she and Astrid Cerwyn weren't very close, she could do her a great favor by taking care of the babe at least until she recovered.

She had always been her father's favorite, his littlest girl, the last piece of his beloved Saga that he had left. He would not risk her life even if she was a great fighter. She hated how they all protected her, thinking she might easily get hurt even though she was just as capable as them. She supposed she ought not complain. This was different. This wasn't a hunt, it was a war. This was a fight for their liege lord, not a silly made-up tournament with the men of their house. They couldn't afford failure, they couldn't afford–

"Thyrsa."

The table went silent again. She looked up at her father, then at Aspen, then at Smalljon, whose jaw was clenched tight, unable to believe what he was hearing.

He chose me.

"Father?" she said, unsure if she even heard him right.

"Father," said Smalljon, much more tightly. The firstborn, the heir to Last Hearth, with two children of his own. His four-year-old son, Ned, was named for their liege lord. His daughter, Amaryllis, named so because they once heard Lady Catelyn say that it had been one of the most beautiful of the Umber names.

Thyrsa was the first to be named so. Her mother had liked the name Thyra, which meant 'thunder warrior' and 'fight or battle,' but hadn't been able to decide between it and the name Yrsa, which meant 'female bear,' and related to a quip she'd made when she and Greatjon first met, about how he reminded her of a bear. Tall and tough but still soft and tender when not threatened.

Saga had left to fight in Robert's Rebellion when Thyrsa was only five, and never came back. Smalljon had been four-and-ten, Esther two-and-ten, Hother ten, the twins eight, and Sigrid seven. They'd all learned how to fight under both their mother and father. Thrysa had still been too little. She couldn't claim to know more than them, she couldn't claim to be better than them. She wanted to be a warrior because her mother was one, but Saga had never even gotten to see her fight; she didn't know if she had her approval the way the others did.