I awoke as dawn brushed the walls of Winterfell. A faint glow seeped through the narrow windows, drawing my attention to the new light they brought and waking me further. Now fully awake, the restless thoughts of my anticipation kept sleep far at bay. Then a guard's knock echoed through my chambers, accompanied by his curt voice: "Lord Stark calls you to the solar, my lord Robb." I nodded and pulled my usual cloak over my shoulders, the thin wool providing a light shield against the morning chill that I barely felt. After finishing with my boots, I exited my chambers, and my boots thudded against the stone floors as I made my way through the castle. The halls were still cloaked in the quiet of early hours, and I knew there was only one reason my father would be calling me so early.
My mind drifted to Father's words from weeks ago when the raven I had been waiting for finally arrived from the Wall. Lord Commander Mormont's reply was cautious but clear: "The Thenns and giants have agreed to parley, and if our terms are truthful and this was not some ploy, they will agree to meet with us on neutral ground at the heart tree just past the Wall." I remembered how Father had set the letter aside, his brow furrowed. He said he would need time to summon Greatjon Umber and Lord Karstark to Winterfell. As the two prominent northern lords closest to the Wall, who had to deal with their wildlings the most, this wouldn't be a decision he could make alone. He knew he would lose some trust if he didn't involve them, so they needed to hear it before we could proceed. They would also require something to bind them to our cause and reward them for their support. Northern lords may not be as snobbish as those in the south, but all lords want something in return for their loyalty and good behavior.
I had seen the weight of this decision in my father's eyes then, the careful balance of trust he placed in me. We strategized about the best boon to offer them. While I didn't know them as well, my father helped fill in some gaps, particularly about Karstark. The boons we would propose were crucial for securing their support; after that, it would be my task to carry the plan forward. I would need to earn their loyalty for the time when I would rule over them. With these thoughts in mind, I approached my father's solar.
As I pushed the solar door open, it creaked, and the warmth from the fire washed over me. Father, his imposing Stark visage framed against the flames, stood by the hearth, his grey eyes fixed on the flickering light. The room smelled of him—of smoke and old parchment. The old maps on the table curled at the edges. I noticed two figures seated across from him. The first was Harrion Karstark, lean and sharp-eyed, his face etched with the toughness of the eastern woods of the North. I could see a resemblance to Stark's traits in his features. The second figure was none other than Greatjon Umber, a towering bear of a man, his beard bristling as he nursed a mug of ale, despite the early hour.
"Robb," Father said, turning to me. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
I took the chair beside him, my hands resting on the arms as I met the lords' gazes. Greatjon's eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and challenge, while Harrion's were cold, gray, and appraising.
"Ned," Greatjon rumbled, his voice filling the room like a drum as he took another swig of ale. "You've called us from our homes for a subject that could not wait, yet you made us wait to explain why until your son was here. What does he have to do with the Wall? What is this all about?"
Father didn't flinch. His face was like ice, his tone steady as stone. 'I've decided, after talking with my maester, my brother Benjen—the First Ranger of the Wall and my son and heir, to find ways to relieve the Wall of its threats and strengthen the North.' I propose that the Thenns and giants be allowed to cross the Wall. They would settle in the North, swear fealty to House Stark as vassals, and the Thenns would settle their house on the stony shore far on the west coast to avoid being an inside threat to the Wall. Additionally, I would establish a separate house for the giants to separate them even more at the edges of the wolf woods and the northern mountains, between Winterfell and House Harclay, but still within my lands. This way, they would have enough timber and land for themselves and their mammoths."
The air thickened, and the crackle of the fire suddenly seemed loud in the silence. Harrion's fingers tightened on his chair, his lips thinning. Greatjon slammed his cup down, ale sloshing over the rim, his face darkening like a storm cloud.
"Wildlings?" he roared. "You would let wildlings into our lands? Ned, have you lost your bloody mind?"
"They're not like the typical raiders, Jon," Father countered, his voice unwavering. "The Thenns are more disciplined and have at least forged bronze based on merit. They also have their own laws and settlements. Do you think I would allow just any band of raiders and murderers to enter my land, hurt my people? Shrinking my duty without thinking of the risks?" He finished with an icy glare and a quiet tone. "The giants are a strength we've not seen since the Age of Heroes. This could well be our only chance to bring them back into service to my family, the Starks, and bolster the North, not weaken it."
Harrion's voice cut like a blade. "Our fathers died keeping wildlings north of the Wall. My uncle bled out on a ranging, his body never found. And now you would welcome them? What about your great-grandfather William Stark, who was killed by none other than Raymun Redbeard? What of your ancestors?"
Father raised a hand, his gaze steady. "I know the cost, Harrion. I've fought them myself and thought of all before who sat in this very solar, who fought them. But this is a chance to turn foes into allies bound by oaths, sworn before the heart tree, sealed with guest right; they follow our same gods. And I'm not asking this without recompense as I'm not taking in the whole lot of wildlings beyond the wall either, only this one clan, which with its own merits has come to have the service and loyalty of the last of the giants, the same which helped the first Starks build the wall which now keeps the last of them out."
Greatjon leaned forward, his bulk casting a shadow across the table. "What does that mean, Ned? What's your price for going along with this madness?"
Father turned to him first. "Jon, if the Thenns betray us, you'll have the first strike. Your house will lead the charge to crush them, and I'll see at least one giant take residence at Last Hearth—a mark of honor no other house will claim, a living symbol of your house."
Greatjon blinked, the fury in his eyes flickering. "A giant at Last Hearth? You're serious?"
"Aye," Father said. "A symbol of your strength, and the trust I place in you. If this fails, you'll be the giant fist that ends it."
Greatjon rubbed his beard, his growl softening to a grumble. "That's… something, Ned. A giant under my roof, and the chance to smash the upstart wildlings if they step out of line. I don't like it, but I'll hear you out."
Father nodded, then turned to Harrion. "For House Karstark, I'll foster Bran at Karhold if you would have him. He's ready to learn beyond Winterfell—your sons will teach him steel and resilience, let him lose the notions he has built of the tales of honorable knights of the south, the likes of which Ser Gregor Clegane or Jaime Lannister smear the title of. It'll bind our houses closer, cousins forged anew."
Harrion's expression shifted, a flicker of pride softening his edges. "You'd send your son to us?"
"I would," Father said. "And I'll trust you to stand with Greatjon if this goes wrong."
Harrion inclined his head, his voice low. "You've got a knack for sweetening bitter news, Ned. I'll agree—for Bran's sake, and to see how this plays out."
The tension eased, the lords' shoulders relaxing as the fire popped in the silence. I watched them, my mind turning... Ned Stark truly had respect and care for dealing with his bannermen; too bad he had no such luck in the South. In the show, I knew Greatjon's loyalty had been fierce in the original timeline, a roaring force at Robb's side when I would call the banners south. If I could earn his respect now, here, by facing his doubts head-on, it'd pay dividends when I became Lord of Winterfell. A stronger bond now meant a fiercer army later.
Father glanced at me, fingers tapping the underside of his desk, a silent signal. "Robb will lead the party to the Wall," he said. "He'll oversee the oaths and ensure this holds."
Greatjon's eyes narrowed as he studied me. "You're putting a lot on the lad, Ned. He looks strong, but does he not still piss green?" He shot me another look, a smirk spreading across his face.
I could guess he wanted a reaction from me, challenging my honor by calling me green, as most boys would. But, lucky for me, I was older and could take a petty insult meant to rile me. I maintained a straight face and waited for him to take another sip of his ale before I replied.
"I could piss in that mug of yours, and you could tell me if it tastes green or not," I said, trying to channel the best Stark poker face I could muster. I noticed my father and Harrion exchange surprised glances before both of them stifled a laugh and looked at Greatjon.
Greatjon caught mid-sip and spat ale almost onto my father before erupting into a fit of coughing, which then turned into a bellowing laugh. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he responded, "Aye, I see now that you're not as green as you seem. But we'll see what you've truly got in time."
Later that afternoon, after finishing the earlier discussion with Karstark and Umber—both pledging their support—they took their leave to find their rooms and rest. It was then that Father called a second meeting. I stood by the window, watching the courtyard below as Jon, Theon, and Smalljon entered the solar. Jon's face was calm, his trust in Father unwavering. Theon, while not as arrogant as he had been when I first arrived, still wore a nonchalant demeanor, slouching against the wall with a smirk playing on his lips. Smalljon filled the doorway, his massive frame tense, likely having talked with his father before coming here.
Father stood once more in front of his desk, his hands clasped behind him. "I've spoken with Lord Karstark and Greatjon Umber. The Thenns and giants will cross the Wall, settle in the North, and swear fealty to House Stark."
Jon frowned but held his silence, his grey eyes flicking to me. Theon chuckled, crossing his arms. "Wildlings and giants? Why not dragons as well?" I smiled inwardly, knowing how true that statement could be in the future, and I almost laughed thinking about it.
Smalljon's jaw tightened, his voice rough. "So you're not jesting, Lord Stark? Wildlings south of the Wall?"
"It's decided," Father replied. "Greatjon and Harrion have agreed. Robb will ride to the Wall to seal it."
Smalljon's gaze snapped to me, his eyes widening as pieces fell into place. "That talk we had months back," he said slowly. "You went on about the North needing strength, the Umbers stepping up, and if giants came back into the North... You knew this was coming, didn't you? You spun it all roundabout so you could warn me beforehand."
I met his stare, unflinching. "Aye, I did. I couldn't lay it all out plainly, as Father hadn't fully settled what we would do just yet, but I knew you'd see the sense in it. Smalljon, I trust you and any Umber to back me as I would back you."
He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh. "Seven hells, Robb. You're a sly one. I'll back you especially if my father's allready put his words and trust in than, so will I. But I'm not riding to the Wall with you. I'd end up throttling a wildling and mucking it all up. Let me stay here, I'll train with the guards, and talk with my father before he departs."
I grinned, clapping his shoulder. "Done. I need you here anyway. Keep the guards from taking it too easy I smile at him."
He nodded, a reluctant smile breaking through. "Don't cock this up, Stark."
Father's voice cut in, firm. "Robb, Jon, Theon, be ready. You ride at dawn, Jory has allready readied Tom, Bernard, and a dozen other guards. So I want you to say your goodbyes to the rest of the family before doing this duty, do you understand? he warmly stares at us."
As they filed out, I lingered, turning my thoughts inward. In the original tale, Greatjon's loyalty had been like a wildfire—unruly but unbreakable. It wasn't until Robb faced him down, with Grey Wind taking his fingers to prove a point, that Greatjon became his most fervent supporter. Now, I was certain that I'd won him over with words, not steel, supported by my father's backing and my own resolve. If I could build that respect now and deepen it, the North would rally stronger when I called the banners south. I was truly making a stronger future for myself and the north, one I was sure even the petty, all-knowing three-eyed raven did not see coming. I turned to my father and give him a final smile and nod before taking my leave as well.