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The Stark by Dscot

I do not own this story.

CH8

Leon Stark rode into Winterfell, his heart pounding with anticipation. It had been more than two long years since he had last seen his mother, Barbrey Stark. Leon had been living at Moat Cailin for almost a year before he march down south at the beginning of Robert's Rebellion with his army.

As he rode through the inner gates of Winterfell, Leon's eyes scanned the familiar surroundings. The towering walls, the ancient tree surrounding the inner courtyard with large Stark banners, all seemed to be welcoming him. It was the sight of his mother waiting for him that truly warmed his heart.

Barbrey Stark stood tall and regal. Her hair, almost all black with streaks of blended light brown hair, framed her face, adding to her distinguished appearance before cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and relief as she caught sight of her son.

Leon admired his mother's ability to handle adversity with grace and dignity. She possessed a rare combination of intelligence, beauty, and a strong will that commanded respect from those around her. It was evident that she had earned the loyalty and admiration of the castle's inhabitants.

Barbrey Stark was not one to waste resources, but she also never forgave those who crossed her or her family. Leon knew that his mother's actions were always calculated and purposeful. She was a woman of power, and her decisions were made with the utmost consideration for his well-being and the kingdom he inherited.

As Leon approached his mother, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the lessons she had taught him. She had instilled in him a sense of responsibility and pride. Though he was always a prideful person. He recalled when they first moved to Winterfell, how when he started to feel overwhelmed by the insults how her soft voice as well as her willing to listen to him and help walk him through his problems would help him relax. As far back as his early memory, his mother would instinctually listen to him. She treated him as an equal and acknowledged that he was far more mature and wise beyond his age. Leon had never needed to use any magic to have his mother treat him as an adult.

"Leon, Prince Stark welcome home my dear," she said, her voice filled with pride. "Winterfell is yours my Prince." then my mother hug me before holding me at arms length, looking me up and down."You have grown into a remarkable young man." Hugging me again she whispered in my ears. " You have made me the proudest mother in all Westeros. I am happy you're finally home" Leon's heart swelled with love and gratitude for his mother. He knew that he had been blessed with an extraordinary woman as his guiding force.

As Leon looked at his mother, memories flooded his mind, recalling moments when his mother had displayed her strength and resilience. Despite the challenges she faced, Barbrey never allowed herself to be defeated. He remembered the times when she had to endure the backhanded insults his grandfather would hurl at her. The shame she had to suffer with my father openly having an affair with multiple women. The fact that this woman stood alone in Winterfell with not a friend or a kind word from anyone. The same servants who used to snigger behind our backs now stood dutifully behind her. For a brief second a feeling of shame, flowed-through me. I had abandoned her when I went to Moat Cailin. Squashing those feelings down remembering one of her first lessons to me about how never to allow emotion to dictate your actions.

A fortnite has passed, since Leon had returned to his ancestral home. His mother eagerly informed him of the progress she had made. She had followed my instructions in the letters I had sent her. In my absence, she had taken charge of the Stark lands, initiating various projects to improve the North. I had informed her that she may use the money in the treasury but asked her to leave a quarter of it untouched. She had gathered women around the land surrounding Winterfell. Using them she started working on several of my projects.

Using the blueprints I had sent her. My mother had overseen the early stage, in the construction of massive underground greenhouses. When it was fully built, I would add massive runic arrays that would keep the buildings at a certain temperature in each greenhouse and I planned on creating artificial lights that would allow the plants to grow all day and night. Providing the people of Winterfell and eventually, the rest of the North, with fresh produce even during the harshest winters.

My mother's ambitions didn't stop there. She must have had my papers with detailed plans gathered form Moat Cailin and gone through them. Seeing that my plans called for the need for massive granite stones. I had marked on a map where I believe the best place to quarry the stone would be. She started the early process of creating a quarry by clearing the land and building shelter for the workers. Looking over her reports, I was impressed.

"Mother, you've done wonders in my absence," Leon whispered, his voice filled with admiration. Barbrey smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "I've merely followed your lead, my son."

I stayed in Winterfell for a month, setting up and drawing plans. With my mother's help, we found several women and men who would be the backbone of my ministration. During this time I had sent the ice blocks, in there runic boxes to White Harbour. The runes on the boxes will cause it to be half its normal weight even when it's full of ice for easy transportation. It would also prevent the ice from melting. I had connected the runes on the box to a sheet of paper in a room secured near my office. If any of the boxes would go missing or be tampered, I would know and be able to deactivate the rune that would cause an explosion that would disintegrate the box and everything that is a half a meter around it. In a letter I sent with the ice I encouraged Wyman to travel to slaver's Bay and without using gold, trade the ice for educated slaves. I remember how hot and arid Slaver's Bay and their surroundings was. Once they're on the ship they should travel to Bravos where they will be given the option of freedom, or to be relocated back in the north.

Before I rode off to begin my construction of the golems, I sat down with uncle Benjen. With the help of my mother,I utterly destroyed any notion of him joining the Nightwatch. Instead of letting him use his guilt to run away to the Nightwatch. I used it to convince him to take up a lordship to strengthen our family, instead of wasting away at a penal colony. To my surprise, Benjen didn't put up much resistance to the idea. As I proposed the plan, his eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was unexpected, given his usual stubborn nature. Looking at my mother, I realized that she must have been helping Uncle Benjen work through his guilt. Her kind and understanding nature had a way of easing the burdens of others, and it seemed she had worked her magic on him.

I had planned on assigning my uncle Benjen a western port castle that will be built near the entrance to the canal from the fever river. Marking it as his new seat where he and his descendants will rule from. After compiling a list and sifting through the profiles of various eligible ladies from the noble houses of the North, it became apparent that the most promising choices for marriage lay between the youngest sister of Lord Dustin and the eldest daughter of House Flint. With the yearly gathering of Lords at Winterfell only four months away, My mother encouraged my uncle to seize the opportunity to meet and greet these potential matches. The gathering would provide him ample time to observe and study their traits, as well as allowing him to present his best self when finally meeting his future bride.

I knew that the Greyjoys would succumb to their rebellious nature, seeking to challenge Roberts authority within the next few years. However, I was determined to delay their uprising for as long as possible, hoping to buy the North more time to prepare and fortify our defenses.

With this in mind, I strategically placed several 7-meter towers along the west coast of the Northern Realm, in key locations where the Ironborn were most likely to make their landing to smuggle lumber. These towers were garrisoned with vigilant men, tasked with keeping a watchful eye for any Ironborn activity and preventing them from cutting down our trees to construct their ships. To further ensure our defences, I stationed my remaining bodyguards to independently patrol the woods. I issued strict orders, that no Ironborn were to be allowed to live. Only those who bore the crest of the Grayjoy, would be secretly smuggled away into my secure dungeons.

I had spent three months in my workshop in Moat Cailin crafting golems. I would stay for a week after they were activated before leaving and head back to Winterfell. My workshop hummed with activity as the golems I had assembled, came to life. Their stone bodies gleamed under the flickering torchlight, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly blue hue. These golems were not like my bodyguards they were humble creations, designed for a singular purpose. These golems, known as "basic golems," lacked the durability and versatility of their more advanced counterparts. They were created with the sole purpose of performing simple and repetitive work, making them significantly cheaper to produce. Unlike their more complex brethren, basic golems were not programmed to respond to multiple commands or carry out intricate tasks. Their capabilities were limited to performing basic functions such as lifting, digging and carrying heavy items.

A week after I had arrived back in Winterfall, I found myself busy with the preparations for the northern gathering. It was a time of celebration the beginning of summer, where lords and ladies from all corners of the North would come together. However, my peaceful routine was soon interrupted by the unexpected arrival of my uncle Ned, accompanied his wife Catelyn and my cousin Robb. They were followed by 10 tally, guardsmen, a septa and Maester who I believe, was Luwin. He declared that he would be my regent, despite my mother diligently ruling in my name during my absence in the war.

I denied him the position of being my Regent. Uncle Ned Stark stood before me, his eyes filled with disappointment and disbelief. I could sense the hurt in his voice as he tried to reason with me, to make me understand the gravity of my decision. I remained steadfast, resolute in my belief that entrusting him with the Regency of the North would hinder rather than aid my cause. I had a vision, a plan to bring prosperity and innovation to the North, to rid our people of the burdens of relying on the south. I believed that his conservative nature would hinder the forward-thinking initiatives I had in mind.

I had entrusted my mother, a woman of great intelligence and astuteness, with the task of ruling alongside me until I came of age. With her by my side, I knew that the North would be guided with a careful balance of tradition and progress, a combination that would lead us towards a brighter future.

During the gathering of the Lords and ladies. I had to work hard to reduce the negative feelings that I caused towards Ned during Robert's rebellion. I was able to soothe most of the ruffled feathers that I had created, except for one.

One particular bone of contention lay in Ned's marriage to Catelyn Tully. The northern Lords knew about the agreement that was made between house Stark and Tully. That she was expected to embrace the religion of the old gods, forsaking all other faiths, However, Ned allowed Catelyn, a devout follower of the Seven, to bring a septa, a priestess of the southern religion, into the heart of Winterfell. This act was seen by some as a slight against the old gods. They whispered in relief that he wasn't my regent. That a true Stark would have held steadfast to the ancient traditions, keeping the Stark family untainted by foreign beliefs.

The tension between my mother and Catelyn was palpable, like an unresolved storm brewing on the horizon. Their strained relationship was a constant source of concern for me. I was afraid that one day my mother will have enough of her and will bash Catelyn's head. Catelyn was a prideful stupid woman who doesn't realize the position she truly was in. Raised as the favorite daughter of a Lord paramount she seemed to resent the notion of being considered inferior to other noblewomen, especially those hailing from the North. She had always prided herself on her lineage and had looked down at the northerners as being savages. The true conflict started when my mother had ordered the septa and the Tully men out of the north. When one of the Tully guardsmen was heard whispering, an insult towards my mother. I had him flog 20 times then branded him, before releasing him naked to head back south, telling him that I will send my guard to kill him in three days.

I have finally received an answer to a letter from Kings Landing that I had sent after a week of dealing with Catelyn's company. She was a disruptive element, which was destroying my peace as well as everyone else in Winterfell. I sent a letter to Robert to give Ned a seat on the small council so Ned can be stationed in Kings Landing. A month later, Ned, with Catelyn in toe, made his way to White Harbor to take a ship to King's Landing. It was decided that Rob, when he turned five, would come back up north to be fostered by uncle Benjen. My serious wish is that Catelyn will do something stupid in King's Landing, which will either get my uncle and herself killed or just yourself.

The golems, with their immense strength and unwavering determination, tirelessly worked day and night to bring this ambitious project to life. Their efforts had paid off, and two years later, a grand waterway stretched from the Bite to the fever river. Connecting the two bodies of water, which will allow traveler's to sail through Westeros for the first time. The canal itself was a marvel of engineering, it was designed to accommodate large vessels and ensure smooth navigation. With a minimum depth of 13 meters, even the mightiest of ships could traverse its waters without hindrance. Its width, reaching a generous 11 meters, allowed for the passage of multiple vessels, which will foster a steady flow of goods. At the two entrance of the canal, I had a 23 meter tall statue, built of Theon the hungry Wolf. The statue looking out at the western ocean was holding a shield in front of him with his sword raised above him ready to strike. The one in the eastern shore, facing essos had him standing with ice planted in the ground, and his hands around the hilt. The statue was made up of a mixture of steel, stone and roman concrete. The Pedestal of the statue was massive at height of 7 m. The height of the statue, from the feet to the top of the head was 16 m. I had the statue resemble what I believe I will look like in the future as a propaganda tool. At the base of the statue in bold letters in the old tongue and new I had carved these words.

(Behind these lands, a warning does reside, To all who dare invade, with arrogance and pride, The spirits of the ancestors, they still roam, Guarding their legacy, protecting their home. Oh invaders, I plea, beware of this noble domain, For the North's resilience shall forever remain. Don't let your pride be your downfall, For winter is coming, and the Starks shall decree.) Yes I know it's corny, but if Gringotts can have a corny warning at their entrance, so can I.

At the heart of this monumental undertaking was Moat Cailin, The golems had skillfully crafted an artificial bay that I named after my Stark grandmother. They carefully sculpted the land to create a safe haven for ships to dock to load and unload their cargo. Lyarra bay stretched out, measuring an impressive 38 meters in width and an astounding 47 meters in length. With a depth of 14 meters. It was a sight to behold, capable of accommodating numerous ships side by side. It wasn't just the canal that was being transformed. Moat Cailin, previously a ruinous relic of the past, rose from the ground once more reestablishing its presence. Its three immense basalt curtain walls now stood resolute, no longer a decaying stronghold, but an imposing figure that commanded attention in the surrounding terrain. Once again, it stood as a symbol of Stark authority that safeguards the North.

To the south of Moat Cailin, I made a conscious decision to leave the landscape untouched. The swampy bogland, with its unique ecosystem was a natural defense. It was a sanctuary, a shield that kept us safe. I chose not to alter a single aspect of this place, respecting its role as a natural defense. Preserving its immense value it held, both as a natural wonder and a shield against potential threats.

To keep the bay at Moat Cailin safe, and to prevent enemies from having easy access to the north. I made three chokepoints in the canal, each spanning 18 meters. These chokepoints were designed to restrict the passage of only one ship at a time. The first chokepoint was strategically placed at the entrance of the canal, where it meets the fever river. The second chokepoint was located a quarter mile to the west of the bay at Moat Cailin. Lastly, the final chokepoint was positioned at the canal entrance through the Bite. To fortify these chokepoints, I had sturdy fortresses constructed on both sides of the river. These fortresses were strategically positioned to provide maximum protection while also enabling them to effectively destroy any enemy vessels that attempted to pass through.

During the construction phase, I had placed charms on each golem. These charms had a special power to influence any curious onlooker who approached them. Once they got close, their minds would be instantly swayed. This way, I ensured that my work remained undisturbed and hidden from anyone trying to pry into it.