Yoren Mooton

Yoren Mooton is part of Daeron III Targaryen's Kingsguard. He is the only child of Yohn Mooton and is cousin to Lady Meredyth Mooton and Lord Morgon Mooton. Yoren is known for his conduct on the battlefield, his physique, and his skill with a sword. He fought for Daeron during the Rebellion, and earned himself the nickname as 'The Unyielding'

Early Years
Imagine being born a Mooton. Bequeathed into the world to a mother and Yohn Mooton. The Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks of Kingslanding. Imagine being the son of a man enamored with Vaegon the Vile. It was perhaps these sins that allowed Yoren to shine as bright as he had. The Long Summer of 354 saw many births to be sure but Yoren’s marked a possible change for the Mooton’s school of melancholic fish - a straw’s chance. His birth wasn’t without complications and it occurred at Maidenpool. His mother had been spending the summer there in the Riverlands while his father served the King as the Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, the standing judicial force of Kingslanding. The ordeal left her barren, sickly, and weak afterwards. She would perish five years later in the Winter of 359.

The boy traveled between home and Kingslanding often. Never staying too long to quite get the smell of Kingslanding stained into his skin, nor the mud of the Riverlands to find home on the soles of his shoes. The misfortune of a young boy without a home to remember came at the revelation that he spent more time with people than in keeps since he was always traveling. He spent more time lazily gazing out of the wheelhouse as a child as his caretaker did some needlepoint or some other lady-like thing that he was hardly concerned with as a child. Because he saw more people than he did places, Yoren was quite amiable as a child. He was constantly told he was highborn but that never stopped him from learning the names of other children who might be out and about when he was, or wherever he was. If he was in Maidenpool, he would hide in the stables from the house guards and servants. In Kingslanding there were many more places to hide - one of the reasons he favored the city as a child. Being two years older than his nearest cousin he attempted to lead by example for her, Meredyth. She couldn’t run around and be dirty like him, jump into hay - like him. Sprint through the kitchens and track flour through the castle - like him. She nearly could do none of the things he loved to do so much and he took great joy in enticing her to do them with him! What child doesn’t love a friend? Yoren was alone in his love for climbing and balancing in places he shouldn’t have ever been. A well marked acrobat by the time of his mother’s death. Something he missed very dearly. The warm encouragement of a caring mother. Cynthia Bracken was much more strict than Yoren’s mother in the later stages of her life. The woman was keen on forcing Yoren to sit and listen to the Maester and the Septa, keen on making Yoren behave as he would, respecting the order at which their lives revolved around. But alas their interests of simple play grew into opposite directions, groomed to be a Lady from a young age as was her birthright. Whereas Yoren was no lord. Much like their paths in life as he would come to find out much later why salmon travel in schools. Surely, his aunt meant well didn’t she?

Adolesence
As he grew into adolescence Yoren was more mischievous than he was friendly, but far more friendly than he could become spiteful. It was an odd juxtaposition compared to his father, who was more confrontational than passive, but more measured than opportunistic. An eager fish was always a dead fish. A slow fish was a dead fish. Yoren learned these little anecdotes as he pranked the folk of the Riverlands and occasionally other Lords of both realms. He would replace the clams at an important dinner with rocks, or leave the wooden pasture gate open, his necessity for a quick getaway during these times of low grade mischief and foolery earned him the knack for riding horses competently and boldly. The pranks would earn him rude names in the various lordships along the Trident. Sometimes these names came with physical tolls and Yoren took the pride in recouping every seething title he could gain. His love of the fight, the rush of adrenaline when someone was attempting to bash his head in, or wrestle him to the ground was second to none. Raging youthful hormones, unspent energy, a myriad of psychological repressions all would explode out of him. It was no mistake that Yoren Mooton was a bit of a berserker. His renown as a fighter really followed him more in Kingslanding than it did in the Riverlands. It was a dark badge of honor, the Lord Commander’s son was a bruiser, he liked the fights. The Father’s truth - he did like them! He would do what any loyal son would do when someone spoke out about his father’s decisions. He would apologize to them first, explain what he was about to do to them, and hurt them. He thought that was what his father wanted, for him to enforce the law of the city. But as he did these things, they felt more and more unlike him. Yoren loved to fight but he didn’t love to fight for his father. When his father did notice his ability to hold his own in a scrap he would be sent like some hound to a merchant one evening, or to some hovel of Fleabottom. To rouse the people into a fit, to bloody a nose, break a leg, or just break several expensive looking things. To send a message was all he was told when he questioned why he was doing these things. A message as to why order was necessary, why he ‘Yohn Mooton’ was necessary.

When Yoren no longer identified with that message he was sent away out of his father’s manse in Kingslanding, the Lord Commander’s manse and back to Maidenpool. There he was trained by Ser Denys Grey in the art of swordsmanship and he took to it very quickly while also keeping his physical regimen that he had adopted from the training his father put the Gold cloaks through. Yoren held onto that training routine as if it was his own name and he shared it with everyone around him. Transforming himself from a scrawny entity of mischief into a disciplined young man who followed a schedule and understood that hard work yielded desirable results when fostered in the right environment and under the right circumstances.

Adulthood
Yoren had rebranded himself after taking care of his body and training his mind to focus on the better things in life, like fishing and laughter. Long talks in the evening on the banks of a creek or a river with a line in the current. Living a purpose. Serving a cause beyond himself, he was called like the rest of the realm during the Lysene Spring and he fought for King Vaegon Targaryen in Essos. The return didn’t see the boy Mooton changed - at least not by much. If anything his boyish charm and amiability only was strengthened. The adversities he had seen. Atrocities. Failures and successes. Those he killed and those he watched die, they had left their mark on him but Yoren was and still exhibits a resilience unlike many others. He mourned his fallen comrades but celebrated their life much more than remembered their loss. When he returned to the Riverlands he was more of a host than a rouser and sower of discord. He participated in tournaments, horse races, and wrestling matches. He traveled to the nearest winery and gathered all the barrels for a decent price and drove cart loads to and from celebration activities regularly. If there was a party, Yoren was the life of it. This easy going lifestyle came to an end however when dark news blotted the skies like the fires from High Heart choked his throat and memories of his burning eyes during the battle scar him, as well as breaking Riverrun. After the siege the Mooton left the Riverlands - tired of a defensive posturing position, and rode to join the Valemen offensive. A steady and slow rate of victory was well received by the Riverlander and when the assault of Kingslanding began he was in the thick of it. During this event, this tactical plan orchestrated by his betters, Yoren earned his reputation of being unyielding. Through the wall he went. Through the streets. The Dragonpit with the Valeman, back into the streets amongst the Lannisters as the Riverlanders committed to their urban battle strategy - or lack thereof. Then rushing towards the Red Keep when the enemy was disorganized enough. The word of the battle’s end reached his ears and he was covered in gore. Not a crazed look on his eye but a smirk on his face as he wiped the sword clean, less concerned with the sight of him and his gear and more fixated on the state of provisions for a celebration. A job well done deserved an award and tactically, the rebellion had succeeded the impossible. Before he knew it, his tenacity in battle earned him a rightful place, one of the most coveted positions a knight could ever receive.

That was six moons ago. Now he has trimmed his hair and looks more the part of a Kingsguard than when he took his oath and donned the white cloak. He hadn’t known Daeron personally in years and if even that, the boy only vaguely remembered the Crown Prince when he would visit on trips from the Reach. But the two got along well enough, as a Knight to his King. Yoren and the other brothers of the Kingsguard have a professionally amiable relationship at best, and pleasant association at worst - as far as Yoren is concerned. On the tails of a harsh winter, a productive spring could be just what Yoren needs.

Currently
Yoren has been tasked with finding a replacement for Ser Vorian Dayne, the current Lord Commander, by his Grace, King Daemon III. Though he personally disagrees with the actions he has begun the task of screening individuals he thinks have the skill and wherewithal necessary to serve as a member of the Kingsguard. The protection of the King and the Royal family is paramount to his duties, so with these points in mind he even looks to women as candidates for the position.