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The Stark by Dscot

I do not own this story.

CH10

Before the Northern Lords left, we celebrated my 18th name day, holding a small but energetic party. I had completely forgotten that my name's day was coming up, but my mother remembered and had set up a celebration at Moat Cailin. During the party, several Lords engaged in a lively discussion about the latest techniques and architectures in castle construction. As I presented my designs, I unveiled a schematic that was currently being used to build Uncle Ned's castle. Spreading it out before them, we delved into the intricate details of the defenses and various architectural elements. I explained the benefits of incorporating concrete, which allowed for faster construction and greater flexibility in shaping the castle. To my delight, several Lords at the table displayed a keen interest in adopting these techniques to repair and enhance their own castles. The room buzzed with excitement as plans were made to implement these innovative ideas, all in a friendly tone of camaraderie.

Discussions with my mother regarding the decision of who should be stationed at Moat Cailin proved to be both enlightening and challenging. As we contemplated the immense significance of this castle and its strategic location, we came to the realization that it should serve as the seat of the heir to Winterfell, akin to Dragonstone in my version of our realm. With this in mind, we agreed that a prudent course of action would be to appoint a steward to oversee the management and operation of the castle. This stewardship, however, would not be hereditary, but rather assigned with each new generation. This approach was taken to safeguard against the possibility of a single family seizing control of this impregnable fortress and undermining the authority of the heir. It was a decision made with the recognition and the importance of maintaining the integrity and security of Moat Cailin for generations to come.

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I never describe my ships, for they are a sight to behold. Using building technology and design far beyond the medieval timeline. The first ship, aptly named the N.R.N. Builder is an escort ship that always stays close to my personal vessel N.R. Hungry Wolf. The Builder possesses unparalleled durability and speed, defying the limits of possibility. Its design, inspired by the legendary H.M.S. Victory exudes grandeur and power. Even though it was lacking any cannons or projectiles, its sheer size alone makes it intimidating. The N.R.N. Builder is the largest vessel ever seen in Westeros. Towering over all other ships in the realm, the Builder's sleek, black hull and imposing dire wolf sigil on its billowing sails. This warship will strike fear into the hearts of all who dare to challenge me.

My personal ship, N.R.N. The Hungry Wolf, was a magnificent vessel crafted in the image and specs of the U.S.S. Constitution. I had poured my heart and soul into crafting the vessel, Its sleek lines and graceful curves made it not only a thing of beauty but also incredibly maneuverable on the high seas. To enhance its speed, I had devised runic motors, which, although mighty, were often overshadowed by the sheer power of our enchanted sails. These mystical sails not only harnessed the winds but exceeded all expectations, propelling us through the waters with an almost otherworldly swiftness. But it was the arsenal of magic-powered cannons that truly set my vessel apart. Positioned on both broad sides, as well as having three placed at the bow and three situated at the stern. These cannons were capable of unleashing devastating barrages upon any foe foolish enough to cross our path. Furthermore, the Hungry Wolf was fortified with protections that rendered it seemingly impervious to sinking, ensuring our safety in the face of even the most treacherous maritime perils. The internal spaces of the ship were expanded by the enchantments I had placed, defying the limitations of its outer appearance. This magical augmentation allowed for more comfortable crew quarters and ample storage space within the hull.

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From Moat Cailin, our journey to King's Landing, spanned a total of eight days. However, I couldn't resist the temptation to spend a day and a half in secret at Dragonstone, indulging in my fascination with the power of dragons. With the Dragon bone as my catalyst, I devised a device to detect other materials infused with the essence of these creatures. As I stealthily roamed the halls of Dragonstone,

Even though I was invisible, I still had to navigate through the mansion's labyrinthine corridors, avoiding the ever-watchful servants and vigilant guards. It was a precarious dance, for even in my unseen state, I had to remain cautious. Whenever they came near, I would hold my breath and stand perfectly still, blending seamlessly into the shadows until they passed. The magic that rendered me invisible was not foolproof; it only worked because they were not actively searching for me or any potential intruders. Thus, I continued my clandestine mission, relying on stealth

To my immense joy and disbelief, I stumbled upon a remarkable discovery hidden within the depths of the catacombs. As I delved deeper, I came across secret compartments concealed within ancient books, bound in the majestic and rare dragon hide. These extraordinary tomes chronicled the seven losses suffered by the Targaryens in their homeland of Valeria. It shedded a light on the intricate art of dragon husbandry. Penned by a Targaryen descendant following the annihilation of Valeria but prior to their conquest, these treasured writings became an invaluable source of knowledge for me.

Just as I was on the verge of abandoning hope, convinced that all dragon eggs had long been smuggled away from the island, fate intervened. I inadvertently slipped into a concealed passageway, unveiling an astonishing sight that filled me with sheer elation. Within this hidden chamber, I beheld chests brimming with glistening silver and exquisite trinkets forged from the legendary Valyrian steel. Yet, the pinnacle of my joy lay before me – nine resplendent dragon eggs, emanating an aura of immense power and potential that I could feel reacting to my magic.

I had to make several nerve-wracking trips from the ship to Dragonstone, ensuring I collected everything hidden within the chambers. It was a delicate operation, fraught with danger at every turn. On three separate occasions, my heart skipped a beat as I accidentally bumped the chests, causing them to scrape against the unforgiving walls. In those heart-stopping moments, I feared that my secret mission would be exposed. Yet, by some stroke of incredible fortune, luck was on my side. The guards patrolling the area, though alert and dutiful, seemed to investigate the sounds no further, allowing me to continue my clandestine task undetected.

As I approached Dragonstone's bustling harbor, the sight of the royal fleet anchored there sent a thrill of anticipation through my veins. With the knowledge of the upcoming events that would unfold in the next year, I knew that I had a crucial role to play in weakening the fleet and tarnishing Robert's already strained opinion of his brother, Stannis. Carefully concealing my intentions, I discreetly tossed small, enchanted obsidian pebbles onto each ship. These pebbles, imbued with dark magic, would dissolve upon contact with water, seeping into the hulls and gradually rotting the wood from within. My plan was simple yet cunning - Stannis Baratheon would either foolishly engage the Ironborn in battle, only to witness his fleet sink before his very eyes, or he would discover traces of sabotage after a few unfortunate losses, leaving him occupied with rebuilding instead of being prepared for the impending Ironborn raid.

As I arrived in King's Landing, my purpose was clear - to gather my uncle Ned, his wife, and my cousins, and bring them back to the North. Ned's presence was required on the Weirwood council as a member of the Ministry of Interior, and I knew it was time for him to fulfill his responsibilities. But there was another reason for my visit as well. I wanted to personally show them the changes in the northern land and give them a tour, allowing them to witness the progress before settling in their castle. I had the main Keep already built, but was still working on the surrounding defense and towers.

However, amidst the anticipation, I had failed to mention a crucial detail. In this alternate universe, my cousin Brandon did not exist. Instead, Ned and his wife had a son, born almost a year after Brandon should have been. Tragically, this young boy had passed away shortly after birth. And as I learned of this news, an unexpected sense of relief washed over me. It was a relief because deep down, I knew the truth. I would have been a kinslayer. I cannot deny, for had Brandon been born, I would have been driven to smother him, a thought that now fades into the abyss.

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My uncle greeted me at the dock of Kings Landing, after I had left my ship. With a warm smile and a greeting of "my prince," he bowed at the waist, showing me the respect befitting my position. As he inspected me, his eyes carefully scanning my face, he couldn't help but comment on the resemblance I now bore to my father, Brandon. A faint smile played on his lips as he remarked, "You know, you're starting to resemble your father more and more these days." Curiosity gleamed in his eyes as he shifted his gaze towards the impressive ship that stood proudly behind me. Its intricate design and unfamiliar aura intrigued him, and unable to contain his intrigue, he exclaimed, "I've never seen that design before!" With a mischievous grin spreading across my face, I couldn't resist the opportunity to tease my dear Uncle. In a witty tone, I replied, "Ah, dear Uncle, much has changed in the north. You're in for quite the surprise! Prepare to witness and experience the marvels that await you."

He, looking exasperated, gestured for me to follow him as he began introducing me to his family once again. First, he presented his wife, who greeted me with a formal "my prince" with a curtsy. However, my attention was quickly drawn to the stern-faced Septa standing behind her. I can see she remembered well the punishment I had administered to the disrespectful Tully guardsmen for his insolence towards my mother. The Septa averted her gaze and cast her eyes downwards when she noticed my disapproval of her presence. Shifting my focus to my cousin, Robb, my uncle eagerly reintroduced him, and Robb's excitement was unmistakable. He bounced with anticipation, bombarding me with questions about the ship I had arrived on. Unable to resist, a warm chuckle escaped me as I playfully tousled his hair, indulging him with exaggerated stories and promising him an exhilarating boat ride upon his return home.

Then, I was introduced to Sansa, a shy girl who clung to her mother's hand, peering at me from behind her skirts. And there was Arya, nearing her fourth name-day, her fearless gaze fixed on me and my weapons. She jumped up and down with uncontainable excitement, babbling in an enthusiastic and bold tone that only a child could possess. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and courage, her little hands gesturing animatedly as she tried to mimic the way she'd someone holding a sword. I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and a flicker of hope for the future.

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After Uncle Ned had finished introducing his family, it was finally my turn to introduce my companions. With a warm smile, I presented my bastard half-sisters, Sybelle Stark who was almost 17 and Maisie Stark who was 14. They had both impressed me immensely. Their academic prowess surpassed their years, and their skill with the spear and bow was unmatched. During sparring training, they effortlessly took down three Winterfell guards at a time and held their own against five. It was no wonder I had recently bestowed upon them the name of Stark. However, what truly made me cherish them was their innate connection to magic. While they did not possess the same power as I did, they were adept at wandless magic and excelled in empowering runes and creating potions. For the past three years, since discovering their magical abilities, I had been tirelessly training them. Though I had yet to assign them any land, their potential and loyalty were undeniable.

As I observed the displeasure etched on Catelyn's and the Septa's faces, I couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance. I shot them a sharp glare before shifting my attention to the task at hand - introducing my other companions. First, there was Dacey Mormont, a dear friend and an exceptional sparring partner. We shared a love for books, making her a kindred spirit in the world of literature. Then there was Jory Cassel, the leader of my personal guard and another close friend. Together, we delved into the realms of blacksmithing, continuously honing our skills in forging techniques and crafting superior armor and weaponry. Despite the tension in the air.

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After the meet and greet, Uncle Ned pulled me aside, a serious look on his face. He informed me that King Robert Baratheon himself had expressed a desire to meet with me. It was no surprise to me, really. I had strategically positioned Uncle Ned in King's Landing, near Robert, to serve as a diversion for the king's frustrations. You see, the only reason Robert had wished to marry my aunt Lyanna was to forge a true brotherhood with Ned. I also knew Robert also recognizes that I was not someone to be pushed around, even after the debacle with Lyanna fleeing to Essos. The entire realm knew it was my Northern forces that had placed Robert on the Iron Throne, that we were the ones who had won the war for him. I had spent a good amount of treasure, secretly hiring singers, playwright and artist to write songs, plays, and create art, and sculptures, that would spread the propaganda of northern strength throughout the seven kingdoms. And Robert, astute as he was, understood that the loyalty of the North lay more with me than with my uncle. With rumors of the north's strengthening and progress trickling down south over the past year, Robert had grown wary of provoking the Northern realm.

If you're meeting up with Robert, I had freshened up in my chamber, ensuring that I looked presentable before the audience. I immediately informed Uncle Ned, who was always the go-between in such matters, that I wished to speak to the Hand of the King. Uncle Ned, with his usual calm demeanor, informed me that Jon would be in attendance during my audience with the king, Robert. I made my way towards the throne room of the Red Keep.

As I entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to the grandeur of the room, filled with ladies and lords of the realm, all gathered to witness the northern ruler come before his king. Suppressing my disdain for these pretentious individuals, I made my way down the aisle towards the throne. Instead of kneeling, I offered a respectful nod to Robert, addressing him by his name. Murmurs and whispers began to circulate behind me, disapproving of my perceived disrespect. However, I was not surprised when all Robert did was to chuckle as he rose from his seat, approaching me with a warm smile. He placed his hands on my shoulders and examined me, noting the resemblance I bore to my grandfather and father. Glancing at his trusted friend, my uncle Ned, he playfully remarked that he hoped I did not inherit the perpetually solemn Stark expression. With a hearty laugh that resonated throughout the room.

The next day after my meeting with Robert, frustration bubbled within me as I met up with Jon. Determined to address the pressing matter, I confronted Jon about the letters I had sent him detailing the invasion of my land by the Ironborn. The treaties that had been signed demanded immediate action, but I had received nothing but silence and indifference from both Jon and the iron throne. My voice grew bold as I questioned their lack of information and assistance, my words echoing with a mix of anger and disappointment. It was clear to me that the urgency of my situation had fallen upon deaf ears, leaving me to face the Ironborn threat alone.

Jon, infuriatingly, pretended as though I was exaggerating the significance of minor concerns. Despite my efforts to inform him, in no uncertain terms, that I firmly believed the ironborn were constructing a fleet to incite rebellion, he merely brushed off my warnings. His dismissive attitude and condescending demeanor made it abundantly clear that he saw me as nothing more than a child playing at warmongering. It was utterly maddening, and I could feel my frustration building.

I was astonished to discover that Jon was actually doing exactly what I had wanted him to do. Initially, I had hoped that he wouldn't take my accusations about the ironborn rebellion seriously, as it would serve my own interests if the ironborn were to attack and decimate the fleet in the south. However, his willingness to dismiss me and address me in a condescending manner seemed suspiciously convenient. I decided to delve into his thoughts and understand his reasoning. To my surprise, Jon didn't actually believe the stories I had spun about the ironborn. He had discussed it with members of his small council, who had all dismissed the idea as mere speculation. Furthermore, Jon seemed to rely on Baelish's presence in King's Landing, assuming that if there was any truth to the Ironborn threat, Baelish would have informed him. In Jon's eyes, I was perceived as a hot-headed troublemaker who needed to be reined in, and he made this clear in his stern and commanding tone.

Before I departed Kings Landing, I embarked on a clandestine nocturnal expedition, venturing to specific locations around the city. Among my covert activities, I seized the opportunity to acquire some of the elusive wild fire that lay concealed beneath the heart of Kings Landing. With meticulous precision, I relocated this potent substance to positions that would grant me a decisive advantage if ever the need arose to siege the city. I positioned it beneath the walls and gates that were less likely to face direct assault. Moreover, I employed my mastery of magic to fashion hidden tunnels beneath select walls, creating access points that defied detection. To further safeguard these covert passages, I devised a system reliant on a mystical amulet that, when worn, enabled one to transfigure the obstructing walls.

I spent about 2 1/2 weeks in King's Landing, determined to make my preparations for the future and gather essential resources. Every day was a battle as I navigated the chaotic and bustling streets, my eyes fixed on the prize. I haggled with cunning merchants, negotiating deals that would secure the provisions and rare items I desperately needed, acquisitions that Winterfell simply couldn't offer. With each successful transaction. Meanwhile, my uncle tirelessly worked to gather his family and their belongings, leaving no stone unturned. When the day to depart arrived, we stood at the harbor, gazing upon the magnificent N.R. , a mighty vessel that would carry us back to the North. Its sturdy frame and formidable reputation filled them with confidence and determination.

We sailed our way from Kings Landing all the way down to the opening of the magnificent canal near White Harbor. As we glided through the waters, a towering statue of Theon Stark caught everyone's eyes, eliciting awe from my uncle. The sight of this monument, a testament to Theon's bravery, filled us with a sense of reverence. Upon reaching the North, my uncle Ned stood dumbfounded by the remarkable transformation that had taken place. Moat Cailin, once a crumbling ruin, now stood tall and proud, rebuilt and improved to its former glory. Our ship eventually docked in the bustling port town of Arya, nestled along the newly constructed Lyarra's Bay. As we continued our journey, navigating the intricate canal system, my uncle's astonishment knew no bounds. Castles, rising majestically beside the canal, left him with his mouth agape in wonder. Fields stretched as far as the eye could see, brimming with bountiful crops, while new bustling villages emerged, flourishing near the canal's edge.

Ned stood in awe as he gazed upon the site where his magnificent castle was taking shape. His eyes widened with admiration as he surveyed the center keep, already standing tall and proud. This was to be the heart of his new home, where he and his family would reside. I had taken it upon myself to construct a grand greenhouse right next to the Godswood, a serene sanctuary for Ned and his kin. Carefully, I had brought cuttings from the ancient Wearwood in Winterfell and planted them here, ensuring a piece of his ancestral home would forever thrive within these walls. Though the defensive towers and fortified walls were still in progress, I had spared no expense in gathering skilled workers from across the North. Knowing that I could not do this project secretly, I had to hire men and women from around the rooms to help build this.

As I and my loyal companions made our way back to Winterfell, anticipation filled the air. We had left Ned and his children behind, with the promise that they would join us in a week's time. I had extended an invitation to Ned's wife, Catelyn, to stay in Winterfell while the castle was being rebuilt, but I knew her pride and her deep-seated animosity towards my mother would not allow her to accept. Instead, she chose to stay in the newly named Winters Den, a small, humble abode that lacked the grandeur of Winterfell.

Upon my return to Winterfell, unsettling news of heightened ironborn activity greeted me. Determined to protect my lands and people, I swiftly dispatched letters to all my loyal lords in the western part of the North. In these urgent missives, I commanded them to increase their patrols and remain vigilant against potential ironborn raids. Aware of the vulnerability of our canal, I also instructed the fortresses guarding it to heighten their watchfulness. No vessel would pass through without thorough inspection at the chokepoints. Additionally, I wasted no time in sending multiple letters to Jon in King's Landing, emphasizing the imminent danger posed by the ironborn invasion. Alas, his responses were laced with condescension, and he even had the audacity to threaten me for allegedly inciting rebellion and panic within the Seven Kingdoms. His words, written in bold, only served to strengthen my resolve to protect my people and ensure the safety of the North.

To my surprise, even Ned seemed to dismiss these notions of the Ironborn rebellion. It appeared to me that Jon Arryn had a significant influence on Ned, as he seemed to be taking Jon's warning that I was overreacting. Believing I was taking the report of increased patrols of Ironborn ships and attacks on merchant ships that were flooding in too seriously. Ned's dismissal was disheartening, as I believed the evidence was clear, and the Ironborn threat was growing bolder by the day. It was as if Ned's loyalty to his old mentor blinded him to the reality unfolding before us. I could only hope that he would soon realize the gravity of the situation. I know that this Ned hasn't had the luxury of ruling and has been spending his time having fun with his friend.

To no one's surprise, except for Ned, the ravens arrived bearing the news of the Ironborn's treachery. Lannisport, once a thriving port, now lay in ruins, consumed by the flames set by Victarion Greyjoy and his rebellious kin. In the original universe, Balon's oldest son and heir, Rodrik Greyjoy, had launched a daring attack on Seagard. However, this time, their eyes had turned towards the North. They knew if they could have possession of the strategic canal that would grant them access to the eastern coast of Westeros, eliminating the need for a treacherous journey to Dorne and saving a month in travel time. With the unwavering support of his uncle Victarion, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, who had previously decimated the Lannister fleet, Rodrik Greyjoy orchestrated a bold and audacious assault on the North

I had gathered my forces from Winterfell, the loyal men and women who stood by House Stark. We marched towards Uncle Benjen's castle, knowing that they would have to take it if the Ironborn wished to have access to the canal. As we approached, we devised a strategic plan. We caught the Ironborn unprepared, their eyes fixed on the castle walls, unaware of the impending danger. With a thunderous roar, our heavy cavalry struck them from the rear, causing chaos and confusion. They never expected our forces to emerge from the dense forest, and it gave us the element of surprise. Utilizing the canals connected from Wintertown to Torrhen's Square, we swiftly navigated our way to Borrowton. Then towards the fever river where the Ironborn had made their landing. Our light cavalry, armed with burning arrows, rained fire upon their ships, incinerating their sails and preventing them from escaping. In this decisive moment, we showed the Ironborn that House Stark is not to be underestimated.

I needed to prove to the northerners that I was capable of leading them into battle, so I made a conscious decision not to rely on battle meditation. Instead, I focused all my energy on honing my fighting skills. With my shield securely in one hand and a heavy spear in the other, I bravely led the charge of the heavy armored cavalry straight into the heart of the ironborn army.

Beside me, my fellow cavalrymen thundered into the ironborn ranks, their horses trampling and piercing through the hastily constructed defenses. The screams of the enemy soldiers echoed in my ears as I relentlessly pushed forward, my spear finding its mark with deadly precision. My horse, a loyal companion, trampled any ironborn in our path, clearing the way for us to break through to the other side of their forces.

But as we regrouped and prepared to charge again, I noticed that my spear had snapped upon impact with an ironborn soldier. Without hesitation, I discarded the broken weapon and swiftly unsheathed my mace. With every swing, I crushed any ironborn who dared to come close. Maintaining my momentum, I rode through the enemy forces once more, emerging again on the other side.

As I reigned on the disorganized Ironborn, I stood there, observing the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and determination. My foot soldiers, well-trained and disciplined, swiftly closed the distance, encircling the enemy and commencing a merciless slaughter. Amidst the mayhem, I noticed a group of ironborn who had managed to commandeer horses from the fallen cavalry. Determined not to let them escape, I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. With my heart pounding, I tightened my grip on the reins, leaning forward on my trusty mount. With an urgent tone in my voice, I urged my horse to gallop faster, intent on intercepting the fleeing Ironborn.

As he sprinted with all his might, I got ready to attack. My adrenaline coursed through my veins as we desperately tried to catch up to the clueless riders fleeing from us. I swung my hammer with unyielding force, connecting with the back shoulder of one of the riders. The impact was so powerful that it surely shattered his shoulder and upper arm, causing him to lose balance and tumble off his horse. Without wasting a moment, I swiftly pursued the next rider, my mace descending upon his torso with a resounding thud. The blow sent him crashing to the ground, incapacitated. Amidst the chaos, I caught sight of my companions, who had successfully captured the remaining riders. I couldn't help but notice the fate that had befallen one of Ironborn, his helm obliterated.

After the intense battle, we all gathered at Uncle Benjen's Castle, weary but relieved that the fighting was over. As I approached Uncle Benjen, he embraced me tightly. He then turned and hugged Ned. It was during this gathering that I learned of our newly acquired prisoners - both Rodrik and Victarion had been captured. I was notified that Victarion had sustained some injuries, but they did not seem fatal. However, Rodrik was in the care of my skilled medics, ensuring his survival after the brutal battle. My mind was already focused on our next move - the complete destruction of the Greyjoys and Ironborn. They will serve as a warning to the world, a reminder of the consequences when anyone dares to mess with the Stark and the northern realm.

Who is during our interrogation of the Victarion that we learned about Catelyn's fate. Rodrik had devised a sinister plan to capture Catelyn as their hostage. They launched a relentless raid on Ned's yet-to-be-completed home, swiftly overwhelming the feeble defenses. In the end, her untimely demise spared her from the unspeakable horrors that awaited her in the clutches of the Grayjoys.