50 AC
Winterfell
Third Person Pov
Three moons had passed since the grim tidings from Skagos had reached Winterfell, followed by the eventual news of its brutal pacification. Now, the lords of the North were gathered in Lord Brandon Stark's solar, the weight of the recent conflict still palpable in the air.
Lord Brandon, his face etched with the burdens of leadership, sat at the head of the long, carved table, the ancient Stark sigil of the direwolf looming behind him. To his right sat Theon, his eldest son and heir. To Brandon's left was his other son, Jonnos Sköll.
Around the table, the lords of the North were arrayed, their expressions ranging from grim satisfaction to lingering unease.
Lord Brandon's eyes narrowed. The lords continued to discuss the details of the resettlement and the future of Skagos, the weight of their decisions heavy in the air.
Lord Brandon's eyes narrowed. The lords continued to discuss the details of the resettlement and the future of Skagos, the weight of their decisions heavy in the air.
Finally, Brandon spoke, his voice resonating with authority. "Now that the Skagos war is settled," he declared, "there should be rewards for those who fought so valiantly."
A chorus of agreement echoed around the table. The lords nodded, their expressions reflecting a shared sense of justice and gratitude.
Brandon continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. "Lord Bolton," he said, addressing Ronnel, "for your service in taking Deepdown, you shall be granted the keep itself, and all its surrounding lands."
Ronnel Bolton inclined his head, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "My thanks, Lord Stark. House Bolton will hold Deepdown in your name."
Brandon turned to Ned Umber, his voice booming with approval. "Lord Umber, your courage and strength were instrumental in the capture of Kingshouse. Therefore, Kingshouse and its lands are yours to hold."
Ned Umber beamed, his chest swelling with pride. "A generous reward, Lord Stark! House Umber will not forget your benevolence."
Finally, Brandon addressed Rickon Karstark, his tone warm with appreciation. "Lord Karstark, for your role in securing Deepdown, that Driftwood hall and its lands shall be yours."
Rickon Karstark, ever stoic, offered a rare smile. "A just reward, Lord Stark. House Karstark will hold it well."
Brandon nodded, his gaze sweeping over the newly ennobled lords. "I expect your new house names, words, and sigils to be presented to me as soon as possible," he added, his voice firm and authoritative.
The lords who had been granted the new holdings nodded in assent. "It shall be done, Lord Stark," Ronnel Bolton replied, his voice smooth and confident. Ned Umber echoed his agreement with a hearty, "Aye, Lord Stark! We will not delay." Rickon Karstark, with a rare hint of enthusiasm, added, "House Karstark will present its new sigil with all due haste."
Brandon then turned his attention to all the assembled lords, his expression serious. "There is another matter of great importance," he announced. "The recent events on Skagos have highlighted a vulnerability in the North's defenses. Therefore, I intend to create a standing Northern army and navy, comprised of 20,000 well-trained soldiers. These men will patrol our roads, guard our coasts, and ensure the safety of our people."
He looked directly at Lord Wylis Manderly. "Lord Manderly," he stated, "you will be in charge of the construction of the Eastern Fleet."
Then, his gaze shifted to Theomore Mormont. "Lord Mormont," he continued, "you will be in charge of the construction of Western Fleet, to be based at Sea Dragon Point."
Turning to Osric Glover, Brandon declared, "Lord Glover, you will be responsible for the training of the army on the ground, ensuring they are disciplined and ready for any threat."
Finally, he fixed his gaze on Karlon Dustin. "Lord Dustin," he concluded, "you will be the overall commander of the Northern Navy, coordinating both the Eastern and Western Fleets."
The solar buzzed with a mixture of surprise, concern, and cautious optimism. Brandon Stark's announcement had thrown a new element into the already complex discussions about Skagos.
Lord Manderly, stroking his beard thoughtfully, spoke first. "A standing navy, Lord Stark? On this scale? It will be a costly endeavor."
"Necessary, Lord Manderly," Brandon countered. "We have neglected our coasts for too long. The Ironborn are not the only threat that could come from the sea."
Lord Mormont, his usually gruff voice filled with a hint of excitement, added, "Sea Dragon Point is a strategic location, Lord Stark. But it will require significant investment to make it a true naval base."
"The investment will be made, Lord Mormont," Brandon assured him. "The safety of the North is paramount."
Osric Glover, a practical man, raised a more immediate concern. "Training 20,000 men, Lord Stark... that is a significant undertaking. Where will we find the resources, the instructors, the time?"
"We will draw from the best warriors in each holdfast," Theon interjected, his voice firm. "Experienced soldiers, seasoned veterans. We will create a force that is second to none."
Lord Bolton, ever the pragmatist, inquired, "And who will command this army on land, Lord Stark? Who will be our Warden of the Ground?"
Brandon's gaze swept across the assembled lords. "That is a matter that requires further consideration. But for now, Lord Glover, your focus is on training and you are in charge of them. I trust you will select your most capable officers."
Karlon Dustin, his eyes gleaming with a newfound purpose, spoke with authority. "I accept the command of the Northern Navy, Lord Stark. I will ensure that our fleets are well-manned, well-equipped, and ready to defend our shores."
The lords continued to discuss the logistics of Brandon's plan, debating the best ways to raise and train the new forces, the allocation of resources, and the potential impact on their own holdfasts.
Lord Umber, despite his initial surprise, voiced his support. "A strong army and navy... it's what the North needs. We've been too reliant on our own defenses, scattered and vulnerable. A unified force will make us stronger."
The discussion continued late into the night, the lords debating the finer points of Brandon's plan. They argued about the types of ships to be built, the weapons to be forged, the tactics to be employed.
But beneath the debate, there was a growing sense of purpose, a renewed determination to strengthen the North and prepare it for whatever challenges lay ahead. The memory of Skagos, and the vulnerability it had exposed, served as a stark reminder of the need for vigilance and preparedness.
As the hour of the wolf approached, the lords began to disperse, their minds filled with the weight of the tasks that lay before them. But before they could leave, Brandon Stark spoke again, his voice thoughtful and carrying a hint of intrigue. "There is one more matter, gentlemen, though perhaps less pressing than the defense of the North. The mountains of Skagos..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled lords. "During the campaign, were any of you, or your men, observant of the terrain? Did you notice anything... unusual? Any geological features that stood out?"
Lord Umber, ever the practical man, spoke first. "The land was harsh, Lord Stark. Volcanic rock, mostly. Jagged and unforgiving. Not a place I'd want to go looking for pretty stones."
Osric Glover nodded in agreement. "Aye, a desolate place. Our focus was on clearing the cannibals, not prospecting for ore."
Jonnos, however, spoke up, his voice quiet but firm. "There were veins of color in some of the rock faces, Lord Stark. Blues and greens, mostly. I assumed they were mineral deposits, but I am no surveyor."
Brandon then said thoughtfully. "Mineral deposits... gold, silver, or copper, perhaps? Skagos has always been considered a barren wasteland, a place of savagery and death. But if there are valuable resources to be mined..."
Lord Manderly, always thinking of trade and prosperity, stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It could change everything, Lord Stark. Imagine the wealth that could be extracted from those mountains. It would strengthen the North beyond measure."
Ronnel Bolton, ever pragmatic, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If there are any resources. We shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. It could be nothing more than fool's gold."
"We won't know unless we look," Brandon countered. "Therefore, I propose we send a team of skilled miners and surveyors to Skagos. They will assess the potential of the land, determine the extent of the deposits, and report back to us."
Lord Karstark, ever cautious, voiced his concern. "Sending more men to Skagos... is it wise, Lord Stark? After what happened there?"
"The islands are cleansed, Lord Karstark," Brandon assured him. "And these men will be protected. But the potential rewards outweigh the risks. If Skagos holds valuable resources, it could transform the North."
The lords discussed the logistics of the expedition, debating who should lead it, what equipment they would need, and how best to ensure their safety. A sense of cautious optimism began to fill the solar, the prospect of untapped wealth adding a new dimension to their plans for the future of the North.
As the meeting concluded, the lords began to file out of the solar, their voices fading as they dispersed to attend to their own duties. Soon, only Brandon, Theon, and Jonnos remained, the heavy oak door closing behind the last departing lord.
Brandon turned to his sons, his expression serious. "There is something else," he said, his voice low, "something that cannot be discussed openly, even among the lords of the North."
Theon and Jonnos exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. "The ice dragons," Jonnos stated, his voice equally hushed. "We found ice dragons, Father. We thought they were a myth, a tale whispered by the wildlings beyond the Wall. But they are real."
Theon then added, "I had a vision, Father. A dream that showed me where to find them, on Skane Island. It also showed me... how to bond with them. They don't speak as we do; they communicate through our minds." Then Theon explained, his voice still filled with a sense of wonder. "It's not like hearing words, Father. It's... thoughts, feelings, a shared understanding. And the stronger the bond, the greater the distance over which we can communicate."
Brandon leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Greater distance? You mean you can only speak to them when you are close?"
"For now," Jonnos confirmed. "But Theon believes that as our bond with them grows stronger, the range will increase. Eventually, we might be able to communicate across vast distances."
Brandon absorbed this information, his mind racing. The implications were staggering. Dragons, ice dragons, capable of telepathic communication, and bound to his sons. The potential power, the potential danger... it was almost too much to comprehend.
"And how do you propose to strengthen this bond?" he asked, his voice cautious.
"By spending time with them," Theon replied. "By being near them, sharing our thoughts and feelings, learning from them. It's a connection that needs to be nurtured."
"And you believe this is safe?" Brandon questioned, his gaze fixed on Theon. "These are wild creatures, Theon, of immense power. What if they turn on you?"
"They won't," Theon said with a certainty that surprised even himself. "I know it. They are... ancient, wise. They have seen things we cannot even imagine. They are not inherently hostile."
Jonnos added, "We believe they are... a part of us, Father. A part of our blood, perhaps. The Old Gods... they showed us this, in a way."
Brandon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The Old Gods... and now dragons. What else will this world reveal to us?"
He looked at his sons, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Very well. If this bond is so crucial, then we must proceed with caution. But we must proceed. The potential benefits are too great to ignore."
"We were thinking," Theon began, "of taking our sons to Skane Island. Torrhen and Alaric. And our sister, Lyra, and her sons, Morgan and Artor. To introduce them to the dragons, to see if they, too, can form a bond."
Brandon considered this, his gaze thoughtful. "Harrion is too young," he said. "It would be too dangerous for him. But the others... yes. It is a risk, but a calculated one."
"It is vital, Father," Jonnos emphasized. "The dragons are not just a weapon. They are a legacy. A connection to something ancient and powerful. We must ensure that this legacy continues."
Brandon nodded slowly, his decision made. "Then we will go. We will take our families to Skane Island, and we will see if this bond can be forged anew. But we will do so with caution, with reverence, and with the full understanding of the power we are dealing with."
The three of them continued to discuss the dragons late into the night. They talked about the logistics of the journey to Skane Island, the preparations they would need to make, and the potential dangers they might face. They debated the best way to introduce their children to the dragons, how to teach them to communicate, and how to ensure their safety.
They also discussed the long-term implications of the dragons' return. Should they be kept secret, a weapon to be used only in times of dire need? Or should their existence be revealed, a symbol of the North's renewed power and connection to the Old Gods?
Theon and Jonnos argued for the latter, believing that the dragons were a gift, a sign that the North was destined for greatness. Brandon, however, was more cautious, wary of the potential for fear and misunderstanding.
"The South would panic," he said, his voice grim. "They would see dragons and think of conquest, of fire and blood. We cannot risk a war over this."
"But keeping them secret forever is not sustainable, Father," Jonnos argued. "The dragons are part of us now. They are part of our future."
Theon added, "And they could be a powerful ally against the true enemy, the one that threatens us all. The White Walkers."
Brandon fell silent, considering this. The threat from beyond the Wall... it was a constant shadow over the North, a threat that grew ever more ominous with each passing year. Perhaps the dragons could be the key to defeating them, a weapon against the ice itself.
As the hour of the wolf approached, the fires in the hearth had died down to embers, casting long, dancing shadows across the solar. The three men, weary but resolute, finally brought their discussion to a close.
"We will continue this in the morning," Brandon said, rising from his chair. "There is much to consider, and we have a long journey ahead of us."
Theon and Jonnos nodded, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and apprehension. They knew that they were on the verge of something momentous, something that could change the fate of the North forever.
With a final, shared look, the three men retreated to their chambers, each carrying the weight of the dragons and the future of the North upon their shoulders. The fate of the North, it seemed, now rested on the wings of ice and fire.