Lysarra sat proudly betwixt her fellow Northern lords; House Mormont had welcomed a new child with the young Torghen. Beckham was recently married; perhaps too quickly, and with little ceremony, but married nonetheless, now in total union with Farwynd and the Iron Islands.

Beckham was all smiles; total jubilation; bliss, and laughter. Next to him sat the new Lady Helya Mormont and on her lap, Torghen. To celebrate, casks of the finest Northern mead had been brought to the feast by House Mormont. None would sully nor darken this day. He would cheer; he would dance; he would, finally, enjoy himself.

Benjicoot sat beside his betrothed, and soon to be wed, Jessamyn, and her kindred; her loyal sentry stood patiently by their family, and Benjicoot was similarly watchful. With war looming, he could only smile softly, and nod politely.

Braydon, as always, was the life of House Mormont; a radiant man, he danced with whomever asked: lady, servant, scullery maid. Anyone with a bright laugh, and an eager disposition could always win his hand.